


Cold, Brilliant, and Utterly Still

by caribbean88



Series: Tempus Belli [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Plot, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caribbean88/pseuds/caribbean88
Summary: Set in the 1970s, Ivy Selwyn's life under the dictation of pureblood society is manageable. That is, until the summer between her 1st and 2nd year at Hogwarts. When something horrific happens to her younger sister, Hazel, Ivy's whole reality fractures into dust. Throughout her time at Hogwarts, Ivy becomes close with Regulus Black and others of her House, all the while trying to figure out how to take down Lord Voldemort and his ideals from the inside.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tempus Belli [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716688
Comments: 50
Kudos: 104





	1. All That Comes with A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started cosplaying this fanfiction and Debt of Time (my favorite fanfic) on my cosplay tiktok, @chameleonsav. If you want to read some other fanfictions I wrote, I do have an old, incomplete Jily fanfic on Wattpad with the user caribbean88. I hope to God my writing has improved since that one was published. Let me know!

**August 25 th, 1972**

Ivy Selwyn stood in Diagon Alley beside her parents, staring up at a narrow, shabby storefront. The gold letters over the door read: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C_. She frowned at the shop, not thinking much of its appearance despite its claim to have been in business even Before Circe.

“Mum,” she said doubtfully as her parents led her into the store cluttered with thousands of wand boxes. “Are you sure Ollivander is the greatest wand maker? It’s pretty dusty in here.”

“Hush,” her mother chided as they approached a single, solitary chair on which sat an elderly wizard.

Ivy frowned deeper at the sight of him, mildly concerned that she was related to the man. They both had silver eyes and his hair was as white as her own, though she realized that was probably just due to his age. Taking that in, plus the fact that she’d never seen him on her family tree, she dismissed the thought of a familial link.

“Avdima Selwyn née Rowle,” Ollivander stood, eyeing her parents. “9 inches long with yew and dragon heartstring… Unyielding if I remember correctly, which I’m certain I do. And Rhaen Selwyn, 9¾ inches, made of elm wood and unicorn hair. Quite brittle.” His gaze went to Ivy, who lifted her chin in response. “And who might you be?”

“Ivy Eira Selwyn,” she used her middle name as her parents had told her to.

“Indeed,” the wandmaker said, taking a measuring tape out of his pocket. “You have a sister, don’t you? Extend your wand arm for me if you would.”

“Hazel,” she looked at her parents questioningly and they shook their heads, silently telling her to lie. “She couldn’t come because she’s sick.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see her when her time comes. Now,” Ollivander held out the tape, which magically extended itself to capture her measurements. “Wait here one moment.”

He vanished momentarily and upon his return, began handing her wands. None seemed to agree with her as he took several back seconds after her fingers grazed the fine woods. However, when he came back with an 11-inch wand, she gripped it, feeling a warm sensation burst in her hand as silver and blue sparks shot from the tip.

“Hazel, eh? Wonderful wood, that,” the old wizard said, looking satisfied. “It’s known to absorb negative energy and disperse it at random so do be careful in times of stress… But that wand should have the unique ability to detect water underground. You’ll know if it emits silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke when passing over concealed springs and wells. Supple with a dragon heartstring core, yes, this is quite an exemplary fit.”

Ivy made sure to thank Ollivander, surprised when her words came out genuine.

After her parents made the purchase and listened to a healthy amount of begging, they conceded to let her explore Diagon Alley, as long as she agree to meet them at Flourish and Blotts within the hour. Pleasantly shocked that her parents were allowing her to wander about unaccompanied since they never let Hazel do so, Ivy’s step had a little extra pep in it as she wandered over to Broomstix.

Two younger children were already ogling the display, their noses and fingers pressed up against the glass. Disgusted by the wet halos of breath left on the surface, Ivy loitered a few feet away, though she stared at the elegant brooms with an equal amount of enthrallment.

“Gross, right?” A voice came from beside her, yanking her from her daydreams of being on the Hogwarts Quidditch team.

She looked to the source of the voice to find a girl with shoulder-length gold-brown hair and hazel eyes. She was shorter than Ivy, though she looked to be the same age.

“Do you mean the kids getting their germs all over the display?” Ivy asked loudly.

Said kids looked back at her and removed their sticky noses and fingers from the glass, running off at the sight of an older, taller, glaring girl.

“That’s exactly what I meant,” the girl snickered, pulling a silk handkerchief from her pocket and using it to wipe the window. “I’m Theya, by the way. Theya Greengrass.”

“I’m Ivy Selwyn,” she was relieved that the other girl was a pureblood. Her parents had forced her to memorize the Sacred Twenty-Eight before starting at Hogwarts so she could quickly know who she was allowed to spend time with. “I hope you’re not putting that back in your pocket.

“Absolutely not,” the girl tossed the fabric in a nearby waste bin. “Do you go to Hogwarts?”

“It’ll be my first year in a few days.” Ivy hoped she wouldn’t be the tallest girl in her year like her mother had been. “Just got my wand, actually.”

“Me too,” Theya said, motioning for Ivy to follow her into Broomstix, which she did. “I just wish I had a brother or cousin or something already at Hogwarts to sit with on the train. Seems like it’d be embarrassing to sit alone.”

“I’ll sit with you if you want,” Ivy stopped to stare wide-eyed at the Nimbus 1700.

“That’d be great,” she sounded relieved and looked just as thunderstruck by the carved oak broom. “Blimey, this is so much cooler than the Comets and Cleansweeps! My parents said if I make the Quidditch team at Hogwarts they’ll get me a Nimbus instead of my ratty old Comet 290.”

“I’m not allowed to fly,” Ivy pouted, quoting her parents. “‘Heiresses are only supposed to use the Floo and Disapparition because they must always look presentable.’ But my parents let my little sister Hazel fly. Encourage her to, even.”

She’d always thought that double standard strange. Whether it had to do with Hazel not being the heiress or the “S word” her parents kept whispering, Ivy didn’t know. What she _did_ know was that she was not allowed to say “Squib” to anyone, much less when Hazel was around.

“Bollocks to that. Say, wanna go to Florean Fortescue's?” Theya pulled some coins from her pocket, waggling her eyebrows. “My parents gave me a few galleons; we can get massive sundaes with extra extra sprinkles.”

Admiring the girl’s mischievousness, Ivy raced her there.

* * *

**September 1 st, 1972**

Excited, nervous energy pummeled through Ivy as she stood on Platform 9¾. It felt like a really big sugar high, similar to the one she’d gotten in Diagon Alley before she threw up from eating too much ice cream. Her parents had been none too pleased to find Ivy hurling in a nearby alleyway while a Greengrass girl did the same a few feet away.

“The train’s going to leave soon,” Ivy said quietly to her mum, who was currently adjusting the collar of Ivy’s clothing as it was apparently not yet perfectly presentable.

“Quiet,” Avdima snapped. “I’m not about to send my firstborn daughter off to school looking like some Muggle street urchin.”

She held in an annoyed sigh, seeing as her mother was close enough to hear it and she didn’t want to get whacked upside the head for huffing. Hazel’s sweaty hand was in Ivy’s right one and although she wanted to shake it off, she knew the ten-year-old would probably start crying. The last thing she needed --on top of her mother fussing in front of all the other students-- was her little sister making a scene.

Finally, Avdima released her and Ivy turned to hug Hazel, who was only slightly shorter than her.

“Don’t leave me,” her sister begged through a face full of white hair that mingled in with blonde locks. “This is the first time I’ve left the Estate in months. Take me with you.”

“You know I can’t,” Ivy whispered back.

“Just wait until the train starts to leave, you can hold the door and I’ll just jump on!”

“Shh,” Ivy hissed into her sister’s ear as her dad’s blue eyes narrowed at them, as though knowing Hazel was plotting escape. She pulled away as the last of the stragglers boarded the Hogwarts Express. “I have to go. Just behave and you’ll be fine.”

"Give your mother a kiss,” Avdima leaned down as Ivy obeyed. “Don’t you dare come back a Hufflepuff. Now, off you go.”

The second she was bid to leave, Ivy bolted onto the train with her trunk and caged owl.

Entering the loud chaos that was the Hogwarts Express, a grin wandered over her features. She gracefully dodged students lingering in the corridor. Entirely avoiding the compartments with older students who very clearly did not want her joining them, she hurried on until she located one with kids who looked her age.

Focused on getting to the window so she could wave to Hazel as she’d promised, Ivy barged into the compartment with a polite apology to the two occupants. Paying their response little to no attention, she shoved her trunk overhead just as the train began to move.

Quickly undoing the latch on the window, Ivy stuck her head into the open air and waved frantically to Hazel as the train pulled away from the station. As the wind picked up in her hair, Ivy watched her little sister run alongside the train, Hazel’s favorite black hair ribbons billowing behind her.

When the train picked up speed, Ivy ducked back into the compartment and shut the window, finally taking stock of the other two kids.

They looked nearly identical, both with shaggy black hair and similar features, aside from the eyes. One, who appeared to be older and was indeed taller, had grey eyes and was watching her with an amused expression. The other brown-eyed appeared to be invested in a book.

“And you are…?” The grey-eyed one asked.

“Sorry, I’m Ivy Selwyn,” she sounded like she meant the apology, though she didn’t. She then matched his tone. “And you are…?”

“Sirius Black,” he grinned, strangely seeming to appreciate the reciprocated sass. “And this is my brother, Regulus.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ivy could hardly believe her luck as she recognized their last name as another from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Her parents would be happy to know that she was starting off on _entirely_ the right foot. “How long is the train ride? My parents didn’t say.”

“Not long,” Sirius said. “But enough with the chit-chat, what House are you in?”

“Oh,” Ivy blinked at his bluntness. “I dunno, this is my first year. But most of my family is from Ravenclaw. I don’t think my parents care as long as I’m not a Hufflepuff.”

“You're freakishly tall for a first year,” Sirius replied, ignoring when she bristled. “Anyway, who cares what your parents think? What House do _you_ want to be in?”

“I-” she frowned, never having really thought about it before. “Maybe Ravenclaw. Or Slytherin. I like snakes.”

“I don’t,” Sirius snorted. “Slytherin is the worst House. Luckily for Reg, here, I think he’s gonna join me in Gryffindor. The _best_ House. Right, Reg?”

Regulus --who Sirius had all but excluded from the conversation up until that point-- just shrugged, looking as though he had been happier with his exclusion as he continued to focus on his book.

The compartment door then slammed open, causing Ivy to jump and her hand to go immediately over her heart. A head of atrociously messy black hair poked inside. “Sirius, come quick! I found Snivellus!”

Sirius nearly leapt out of the compartment, the messy-haired boy giving Ivy and Regulus a grin before departing. Scowling at the door they’d left open, she gave a huff and closed it before any more chaos could enter the compartment.

“Your brother doesn’t have very good manners,” she sat neatly back down.

“No, he doesn’t,” Regulus closed his book to give her his attention, looking genuinely guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said, still feeling a bit frazzled. “What’s a Snivellus?”

“As far as I can tell, it’s something greasy.”

“Ew,” Ivy wrinkled her nose. “And who was that with your brother? Someone needs to tell him what a comb is and how to use it. My mum would never let me out of the Estate looking like that.”

“That was James Potter, he hangs around with my brother a lot. Maybe you should be in Ravenclaw, you seem curious enough.”

“Sorry,” she deflated a little. Her parents had told her to learn everything and anything she could whilst at Hogwarts, but perhaps she wasn’t supposed to do so on the train ride over.

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “Nothing wrong with Ravenclaw. Or Slytherin, despite what Sirius would like you to believe. He’s like most Gryffindors; annoying and ill-mannered.”

Ivy decided that she didn’t want to be in Gryffindor after that description. She also decided that she liked Regulus. He seemed just as well-spoken and well-educated as her. Additionally, he appeared to have a good sense of propriety, which her parents said was important.

“What House do you want to be in, then?” She asked.

“Slytherin, like my whole family. Except for Sirius, obviously.”

“Known for their cunning and ambition.”

“Don’t forget cleverness,” he puffed out his chest a little. “Determination, and resourcefulness.”

“What’s the difference, then, between Slytherin and Ravenclaw?”

Regulus paused as they went over a bump in the tracks. “Ravenclaws gather information to have it. Slytherins gather information to use it.”

Ivy thought that she very much liked the sound of Slytherin.

Hearing a knock on the door, she turned to find Theya on the other side of the glass, waving eagerly. As Ivy motioned for her to join them, she thought about how James Potter and Sirius Black could learn a thing or two about politeness from Theya.

Once Theya settled in, Ivy made introductions between her and Regulus.

“I met Regulus’s brother, too,” Ivy said, catching Theya up. “He was a little…”

“Bit of a git,” Regulus finished for her, grinning.

Ivy and Theya burst into laughter.

* * *

By the time Ivy was walking to the castle, she’d already had more fun than the last eleven years at Selwyn Estate. The entire train ride had been spent chatting with Regulus and Theya, both of whom were clamoring to be in Slytherin, making Ivy want the House even more. In fact, the only thing that would’ve made walking through the giant wooden doors of the castle better, was if Hazel had been with her.

 _Next year_ , she thought, expelling the thought that her sister might be a Squib. Just because Hazel’s magic hadn’t showed yet, that didn’t mean it never would. Besides, she still had a year for it to manifest.

Walking alongside Theya into the Great Hall and between the four massive tables, Ivy’s jaw dropped when she looked up. Thousands upon thousands of lit candles floated above her head and the space above the candles looked exactly like the night sky, to the point that she almost thought it was the real thing.

She only looked down again when she ran into a girl ahead of her who had stopped. The first year had dark hair and eyes, and was giving her a dirty look. Ivy muttered an apology as the Sorting ceremony began.

Fortunately or unfortunately, she was tall enough to see over the heads of the other first years, and had a clear view of the singing Sorting Hat that sat on the stool, spouting information about the different Houses and their founders.

When the song was finished, a witch appeared beside the hat, wearing crimson robes. She was old, with dark hair and a no-nonsense look on her face. Only when Regulus whispered that the woman was Professor McGonagall did she even notice the giant table behind the Sorting Hat where the staff sat.

The Professor began the Sorting alphabetically and it was quite a while until she called, “Selwyn, Ivy!”

By then, Theya and Regulus had already been placed in Slytherin and Ivy was the only first year left aside from the girl she'd bumped into earlier.

Walking up to the stool, she sat down, trying to ignore that most of the eyes in the room were on her. Then, the Hat was placed on her head, immediately slipping right over her eyes.

“Well, well,” a voice in her ear startled her. “You’re a complicated one… Bright and curious, certainly. Cunning and resourceful as well, I see, with great potential in that particular area… But then there’s that pesky loyalty. Careful with that, be very careful with that. Hmm, what should I do with you?”

Ivy blinked in the dark of the Hat and listened to it debate with itself for a good three minutes. When she heard the other students whispering and realized that she was bordering on becoming a Hatstall, she began to scowl.

 _Put me in Slytherin_ , she demanded, wondering while she did if she was allowed to make demands.

“Mmm, but you don’t want the attention of being a Hatstall,” it argued. “And seeing as your sister is a Squib, that may make things difficult…”

The Hat continued to argue, but Ivy didn’t hear what it said.

There was that word again, that horrible word.

 _Squib_.

Ivy was shocked the Hat had said it, as her parents had demanded that she never utter that word since being magic _less_ was even worse than being a magic _thief_ like the Mudbloods were. More than shocked, she was horrified to hear her sister’s identity confirmed.

Remembering her cousin who was cast out for being a blood traitor, a mental image of Hazel being tossed out in the rain became brazen in her mind. Immediately, Ivy knew that she would never be the person to confirm her sister being a Squib. She would quite literally take the secret to the grave. And if anyone, even her parents, threatened Hazel… It would be like fighting the a winter storm.

“…But with that loyalty to your sister,” the Hat continued. “And your willingness to tear down everything and everyone to protect only one individual… Better be… SLYTHERIN!”


	2. Bogey Firsties

**January 8 th, 1973**

Ivy yawned as she made her way in between the tables of the Great Hall, the light of early morning drifting lazily through the windows. Before the Winter Holidays, she’d gotten into the habit of sleeping in at Hogwarts and only doing the bare minimum with her appearance. However, spending two weeks with her mum and dad in Italy was a thorough reminder that she was to always look her best.

Therefore, she’d gotten up an hour before the sun, making sure her straight hair was combed to perfection and her robes were as neat and symmetrical as possible.

Spotting Theya, who looked far more awake than Ivy felt, she took a seat at the Slytherin table across from Regulus. Sleepily murmuring her hellos, she gave a nod to the second year who had recently joined their little group, Severus Snape.

He scowled at her and she rolled her eyes.

The air between her and Snape had been taut ever since her accidental social blunder in which she’d indeed found out what a Snivellus was. Though, it wasn’t that bothersome, seeing as she preferred to keep her social group small as it allowed for more study time. This was quite unlike Theya, who was already on a first name basis with the entire Slytherin House, as well as a smattering of other students. Theya Greengrass, Ivy had found, was quite the socialite and could charm most anyone.

Evidence of this was sitting diagonal from her in the form of Snape, who was giving a short, vague answer about how his Winter Holidays had been.

“Consider yourself lucky it was dull,” Regulus said. “My mother forced Sirius to come home for Christmas and she really shouldn’t have.”

“That bad?” Ivy asked, digging into her breakfast of purely bacon.

He nodded. “I’m talking about a full two weeks of bleeding eardrums.”

She cringed, only able to imagine what the Summer Holidays would bring.

“Didja do anything fun for Winter Hols?” Theya asked Ivy.

“Went to Italy with my mum and dad.”

"Not Hazel?” Regulus raised his brows.

“She’s sick.”

“Still?” Theya frowned, swallowing a bite of food. “What does she even have, anyway, that would keep her ill this long without needing to go to St. Mungo’s?”

“We don’t know,” Ivy lied for what was probably the thousandth time, repeating what she’d rehearsed with her parents. “We have a Healer who stays with her day and night, plus another whose doing research to figure out what’s going on.”

“What are her symptoms again?” Theya asked.

“Headache, stomach pain, sore muscles, and fatigue,” Regulus answered.

Ivy blinked at him, not having realized he’d been paying that much attention to what she said about Hazel. She wasn’t sure whether his attention to detail was a good or bad thing.

“Right,” Theya said. “And she’s been sick since last summer?”

“Mhm,” Ivy murmured, hoping she’d drop the subject.

“And they really can’t find anything?”

“No,” Ivy scowled.

“But have they tried-”

“Theya,” she snapped. “Do I look like I want to talk about Hazel and whether or not she’s going to drop dead at any given moment? I did plenty of that over the Holiday, so if you’re going to keep asking me about it, let me know now so I can go sit somewhere else!"

She marveled at how easily the lie had slipped off her tongue. Feeling impressed with how convincing it sounded, she wondered whether it was due to her tiredness or her conflicted feelings over Hazel being a Squib. Either way, she was pleased with her ability to lie convincingly.

“You’re right,” Theya relented. “I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.”

Ivy relaxed a bit. “How was your Holiday, then?”

“It was pretty boring,” Theya replied. “Except for the Dungbombs I accidentally set off. We had to evacuate for most of the Holiday and stay with some friends.”

“What were you doing with Dungbombs?” Snape asked.

“Remember how Vivienne Parkinson put a biting jinx on my chair in Transfiguration?”

They murmured their recognition of the second year they’d all come to dislike.

“Well,” Theya continued. “I had this idea to make all her robes smell like Dungbombs for the rest of the year. Obviously, that plan went wrong and I now never want to go near Dungbombs ever again.”

“I never liked Parkinson,” Snape said.

“You don’t like anyone, Severus,” Theya grinned.

Ivy was astonished when Snape cracked a smile.

“I take it back,” Theya smirked, eyes over Snape’s shoulder. “There’s a redhead coming our way who I _know_ you like.”

“Shut up,” Snape hissed under his breath.

As the emerald-eyed Muggleborn arrived, Regulus and Ivy made polite but disinterested acknowledgements.

“Hey, Evans,” Theya grinned. “Coming to save me from my less than pleasant company?”

Ivy and Regulus frowned at her.

“Oh, you know I don’t mean you,” Theya told them with a playful wink at Snape, who glared at her, though it was extremely tame compared to most of his looks.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Evans laughed. “But no. Sev and I actually had plans to swing by the Library before class. You’re free to join us, though, if you’d like.”

“But then who would keep these two,” she gestured to Ivy and Regulus. “From getting frown lines?”

Ivy rolled her eyes and returned to her meal.

Tuning out the rest of Theya’s conversation with the Mudblood, she instead watched the owls fly in. Catching her mail before it slammed into her near-empty plate of bacon, she turned her attention to the Daily Prophet and Hazel’s daily letter.

* * *

**March 29 th, 1973**

Scratching her nose, Ivy hoped to Merlin that she didn’t sneeze in History of Magic. Several students were asleep, namely the Hufflepuffs, but she knew if she sneezed and bats were to fly out of her nose, Professor Binns would do next to nothing to stop the laughter. And that’s assuming he’d even notice the laughter in the first place.

Finishing a line on her parchment, Ivy set the quill down to flex her fingers, which were achy from taking notes. Feeling the familiar prerequisite itch in her nose, she took a breath in through her mouth, doing her best to avoid sneezing.

When the feeling passed, Ivy scowled at Ariadne Zabini’s back, seeing as the first year Zabini sibling was the reason she was worried about bats flying out of her nose. The dark-haired witch had learned the Bat-Bogey Hex from a fifth year, Mundungus Fletcher, who gave her an altered version of the spell. Then she’d used it on another first year and ended up hexing the _entire_ class instead.

The staff had yet to figure out how to fix it and didn’t know how long it would last. Not only that, but her year had been deemed the Bogey Firsties, which no one was too happy about. The Slytherins had taken to hexing Zabini behind her back or outright not speaking to her, while the other Houses avoided contact at all costs.

 _Feel my hate, Bogey Girl_ , Ivy thought.

Hearing the class’s parchment jostle and books being shut a little too eagerly, she realized class had come to an end. Gathering her things, she thought about waking the two sleeping ‘Puffs, Dirk Cresswell and Edgar Bones, but thought better of it.

Leaving the classroom with Regulus, they met up with Theya on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts where they would be learning how to treat werewolf bites. The gold-haired witch was chatting with Emma Vanity, a fourth year Slytherin. Ivy was surprised to see the duo as most of the older students wanted nothing to do with ickle firsties. Especially the Bogey Firsties.

Once Ivy and Regulus gathered their friend and left for the Defense room, Ivy gave Theya an inquiring look.

“Just getting to know our Housemates,” Theya answered the unasked question cheerfully. “She’s the new Slytherin Quidditch team captain. If the three of us ever want to be on the team we’ll need to get to know the players.”

“I’m pretty sure tryouts are about talent, not who you know,” Ivy commented.

“Statistically,” Regulus said. “It’s about half and half. Competition requires good players, yes, but no one wants to hang around people they don’t like.”

“Exactly,” Theya said. “There’s a few other third and fourth years on my list I still have to get to know, but once they’re checked off, all I have to do is introduce you and you’ll be in their good graces. But we can strategize how to nurture the connections later.”

“Why only third and fourth years?” Regulus asked.

“Because we probably won’t be good enough until at least third year,” Ivy explained. “And by then, the third and fourth years of now will be the team captains or have seniority.”

“What she said,” Theya spoke.

“You're both too clever for your own good,” Regulus said admiringly as they entered the Defense classroom.

Ivy preened under the attention while Theya looked like she was already back to scheming.

* * *

**June 29 th, 1973**

Tugging her trunk behind her, Ivy carried her caged barn owl in her right hand. She walked at an awkward angle, trying to support the weight of the oversized bird as she made her way through the corridors to head home.

The thought of bringing her items downstairs on her own was not at all appealing. But unfortunately for her, they were no longer allowed to use the Levitation Charm to get luggage on the main floor of the castle. A second year Gryffindor, Frank Longbottom, had ruined it for everyone right before Spring Holidays when he was levitating his trunk over the edge of the staircase and lost focus.

His trunk had tumbled down several floors, knocking most of the others down with it. It had taken several hours to sort out everyone’s items and half of Ivy’s stuff went missing, which she was sure was due to theft.

The Longbottom incident was extra frustrating since Ivy excelled in Charms and had wanted to show off how good she’d gotten. Of course, her exams had reflected as much. But she wanted everyone else to know too, not just the Professors.

Lost in frustrated thought, Ivy rounded a corner and rammed into someone.

Letting go of her trunk, which landed with a heavy thud on the stone, she managed not to topple her owl. It let out an irritated chirp at the jostling and she teetered for a moment before regaining her balance.

Looking up into the face of Sirius Black, she snapped, “Watch where you’re going!”

“Me?” Sirius frowned. “That was entirely your fault.”

“Sorry,” Ivy said flatly as she stood up her trunk and set down her owl.

It had taken her a good few minutes after packing to figure out how to balance the heavy cage while also tugging along her trunk. And it was for that reason that she’d told the other girls in her dormitory to go ahead without her. She was certain it would take several more minutes to remember how to do it again.

Ivy let out an annoyed huff.

“Hey, you’re Reg’s friend, right?” Sirius asked, snapping his fingers as he evidently tried to remember her name.

She nodded and bit back a rude comment.

“Ivy Selwyn!” He exclaimed. “Y’know, Reg talks about you all the time during the Holidays, even more than the Greengrass girl. Might even have a crush on you.”

Ivy stared at him blankly, having no idea what to do with that information, before looking around for other Slytherins. There were a few other students in the corridor, chatting by open windows and generally lagging behind, but didn’t see anybody from her House that she knew.

“Too good to talk to a Gryffindor, are we?” Sirius asked when he got no reply.

Truthfully, Ivy didn’t find Gryffindors any more annoying that the rest of the Houses, her own included. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be teased or questioned for talking to Sirius Black. Not that it made much sense to her _why_ they would do so.

“Your brother doesn’t like you,” Ivy said. “And he wouldn’t like me talking to you. Neither would my House. Or yours.”

“Ouch,” Sirius looked genuinely hurt. “You always care this much about what other people think?”

“Yes,” she said quietly with a “duh” tone. “You always give first years a hard time?”

“When they’re Bogey Firsties, yeah.”

Ivy glared at him.

“Relax, it was a joke,” Sirius said flippantly. “You’re not Bogey Girl, remember? Besides, last year I was stuck in a Full Body-Bind Curse on the floor of the greenhouses for hours. Ants got everywhere. And I mean _everywhere_.”

She surprised herself by cracking a smile.

Sirius grinned, looking proud of himself.

“I believe that curse was courtesy of a mutual friend,” Ivy smirked.

“Snape’s your friend?” He looked offended.

“Friend of a friend,” Ivy said. “Potter said something about a Snivellus on the train at the start of the year and I asked Snape if he knew what that was. Completely innocently, I might add. Now he thinks I was trying to take the mickey out of him.”

“It’d be funnier if you had been.”

“Says you,” Ivy scoffed. “ _You_ have the luxury of not being in the same House and Commons as him.”

“Hard to avoid him in the snake pit, eh?”

“Extremely.”

Sirius eyed her for a moment before glancing over his shoulder. He then pulled a book from his pocket, holding it out to her. “I don’t suppose you’d want to take this off my hands for me?”

" _Muggles Who Notice_ by Blenheim Stalk,” Ivy took it. “Why...?”

“My friend, Remus, won’t stop spouting facts from it so I nicked it. ‘Course he’ll just find another book to obsess over, but I had to get it away from him before he lent it to Evans.”

She raised a brow at him and tucked the book into her trunk, though she doubted she’d ever read it. “Well, I don’t want to miss the train.”

“Me either,” Sirius said then gave a jerk of his head. “Come on then.”

“Little hard to do,” Ivy picked up her bird cage, which was heavy enough on its own to topple her over. “If I’m being honest.”

“I’ve got it,” Sirius replied, casting a _Wingardium Leviosa_ on her trunk. He then began walking down the corridor, tugging his own trunk behind him as hers floated.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Ivy said as she jogged a little to catch up with him.

“Rules are made to be broken.”

* * *

She had just taken her last step off the staircase with Sirius beside her and the trunk beside him when she felt the tingling in her nose. A powerful sneeze overtook her and several bats flew out, giving her nostrils a very odd sensation that she could only describe as abnormally clear of snot.

"Ugh!” Ivy groaned, scratching her nose. She spotted Regulus lingering by the open wooden doors of the castle, summery warmth filtering in as the bats flew out.

“It can’t be that bad,” Sirius grinned.

Regulus smiled at Ivy, though the look vanished when he saw Sirius.

“Not as bad as being a Mudblood, I’m sure,” Ivy joked.

Sirius’s grey eyes flashed. “Don’t use that word!”

“It’s not a bad word,” Ivy jumped, startled and confused. “I know all the words I’m not supposed to say, Mudblood isn’t one of them. My parents say it all-”

Ivy’s trunk dropped to the ground with a loud crash that echoed against the stone walls. It snapped open on contact and all of her belongings spilled out. An expensive, glass bottle of perfume that Hazel had gifted her shattered on the ground.

“ _I said, don’t use that word!_ ” Sirius came to stand a little too close for comfort.

Feeling her lower lip wobble, tears burned in her eyes as she flinched away from him.

The aggression in his physicality scared her, as it was too close to the way her parents had looked over Spring Holiday. They’d decided that the best way to get Hazel to perform magic was to beat it out of her and Ivy suggesting that maybe Squibs weren’t evil had only turned their wrath on her.

Regulus was there in an instant, shoving himself between Ivy and his brother in an attempt to protect her from Sirius’s wrath.

Ivy backed away quickly.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Regulus growled. “Back off!”

“She just said the “M” word!” Sirius shouted back. “I’m not about to stand here listening to that shite!”

Ivy move further away as the phrase “blood traitor” was thrown out, sensing that they were going to get physical with each other. She went to kneel beside the broken perfume bottle as a fight broke out, a fight that she barely noticed. She was too focused on the smell of lavender she always wore because it reminded her of Hazel, her innocent little sister who was stuck at home with their parents, having Merlin knew what done to her.


	3. Impure Blood

**July 13 th, 1973**

Ivy lingered behind Hazel, humming to herself as they walked through the garden, making their way to a nearby grey-stoned archway. She watched the shine of the sun on her sister’s ash blonde hair, which was tied loosely with black ribbons. Enjoying the feel of the breeze rippling across her skin, they reached the archway that had been erected in the middle of a cleanly trimmed hedge.

Hazel paused, kissing the pad of her index finger, then tapped it against the stone before proceeding. Ivy did the same, prolonging their superstition that if they did this each time, their parents would never find them in their secluded space. And with how tense things had been back at the mansion between their parents and the newly wed Lestranges --Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus-- she doubted they would come looking.

Ivy immediately felt at ease upon stepping through the archway.

Their space was small compared to the rest of the Estate, surrounded by half-broken mossy stone walls that still remained from the cottage their ancestors had lived in hundreds of years ago. A fountain sat in the middle of the area and a large tree branch stretched overhead, from which hung a swing. The only other element of note was the black-stemmed Moly plant that flowered in a corner. Ivy and Hazel had had the elves plant it when their parents started whispering the “S” word.

Ivy felt her good posture melt from her shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t worrying about what she was going to say next and how her words could be perceived. She didn’t worry whether the collar of her dress was straight or whether she had flyaways.

She didn’t need to perform around her sister, who somehow never performed.

Hazel had taken a seat on the swing and Ivy joined her. Hazel immediately leaned her head on her shoulder as they each held onto the ropes holding them up.

“Happy birthday,” Ivy said quietly, letting the sun warm her skin. “I wanted to get you a few presents but mum and dad wouldn’t let me. And you know what they’d do if I tried to nick something.”

“Did they say why?”

“They said money’s tight, but that’s obviously not true.”

Hazel pulled away to look at Ivy with big blue eyes. “How do I stop being a Squib, then?”

“I don’t think you can just stop,” she replied. “I think it’s something you just are. Like how we’re human and can’t be otherwise.”

“But if Mudbloods steal magic, can’t I steal it, too?”

“I don’t know, Haze.” The thought had never occurred to Ivy, though now that it had, she was wondered the same thing. Ivy was not at all above theft, especially if it was for her sister. “I’ll research it when I go back to Hogwarts.”

“I don’t…” Hazel started. “Why can’t we just run away?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Ivy rolled her eyes. “We don’t have money or anywhere to go. Besides, once I graduate from Hogwarts, we’re both getting out of here.”

“But I want to go now!” Hazel got off the swing to go sit on the fountain’s edge with her arms folded and bottom lip jutted out. “I haven’t even left the Estate since you started school!”

“Look,” Ivy pursed her lips, slowing the sway of the swing. “You know the plan. When I’m of age, I can withdraw however much I want from Gringotts. We’ll get a house and after that, for all I care, we don’t ever have to see them again. We aren’t going to stay here longer than we have to. If we left now, it’d be worse than being here.”

Hazel splashed the water angrily, still wearing her pouty face.

Ivy chewed on her lip anxiously, glaring not at her sister, but at the long sleeves she was wearing. The same long sleeves that covered her own arms. She couldn’t be sure the severity of Hazel’s bruises, but if they were anything compared to her own, well…

“What if…” Ivy started. “What if when I go back to Hogwarts, I find someone?”

“Find someone?” Hazel glanced up, moving her hand in the water that was gently rippling from the soft waves falling into the main pool.

“I’ll find someone who will take you in.”

“The only people you know from school are like mum and dad.”

“That’s true,” the gears began to turn in her brain. “But… what if I talk to the Professors once I get there? If I come to school all bruised up, or even tell them what mum and dad do, maybe they’ll take us both away.”

“You think so?” Hazel stopped playing with the water, looking hopeful.

“Yeah!” Ivy got off the swing and walked to her sister with renewed energy. “The second I get off that train, I’ll find a Professor, maybe Slughorn --he’s the Head of Slytherin House-- and I’ll tell them everything!”

“You don’t care that I’m a Squib?” Hazel pressed her lips together.

Ivy was silent. She knew that being a Mudblood or a Squib or a blood traitor was bad, but it just occurred to her that she’d never really thought to ask why. The only difference between Hazel and Ivy was that Hazel couldn’t use magic.

 _Why_ does _it matter that she can’t use magic?_ Ivy thought.

She could understand Mudbloods being bad for stealing magic from purebloods, but Squibs couldn’t steal magic to her knowledge. Weren’t they kind of just… minding their own business?

“No,” Ivy finally said. “I don’t care. We’re getting out of here and we’re doing it soon.”

“Do you promise?” Hazel asked with wide eyes.

“I swear.” Ivy sat on the side of the fountain and held her sister’s hand. “Once I get back to school, it’s you and me, Haze.”

* * *

**August 6 th, 1973**

Taking small bites of her dinner so that her mum wouldn’t scold her in front of company, Ivy sat still in her chair, listening to the adults talking. The Lestranges had come over for dinner, as they seemed to be doing often nowadays, and she’d been bid to join them. It was a bit odd, seeing as her parents usually excluded both her and Hazel from the get togethers.

A little bored, she chewed her roast with her mouth closed, as was polite, and wished she wasn’t stuck in the wood-paneled, dark blue dining room. She also wished that the sun was up so she could at least look out the window and daydream about being on the grounds.

Sighing under her breath, she glanced up at the twenty-something Lestranges, thinking about how she hoped to marry someone as handsome as Rodolphus one day. His hair was dark, nicely accenting the bright blue of his eyes. Gaze sliding to Bellatrix, she thought how beautiful her voluminous black curls and aristocratic features were.

“How are you liking Hogwarts, Ivy?” Bellatrix asked from across the shiny chestnut table, having caught her staring. “I know your parents were hoping you’d be a Ravenclaw, but I’m glad that we have Slytherin House in common.”

“It’s great,” she tried not to fidget with the dress she'd been forced to wear that made her look like a doily. “I’ve made friends with a lot of good families.”

“Like who?” Rodolphus asked.

“The Greengrasses and the Blacks.”

“Sirius Black?” Bellatrix asked sharply.

“No, Sirius is a prat.”

“Language!” Rhaen, her father, snapped, though Rodolphus let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy said before addressing Bellatrix again. “No, Sirius got mad at me for saying something about Mudbloods. He threw my trunk. Broke my perfume. Regulus got in a fight with him.”

She carefully avoided the fact that she’d been enjoying his company before he went barmy. If there was one thing Ivy had learned above all else, it was when to keep your mouth shut and what details to exclude. It was second nature to her at this point.

“Good on Regulus,” Bellatrix nodded her approval. “Sirius always was a terrible little ingrate. I’ve been telling that to Walburga practically since he was born.”

“And from what I’ve heard,” Rhaen said distastefully. “He’s been spending most of his time with the Potters’ son.”

“It’s hard to believe Dorea used to be a Black,” Bellatrix sniffed. “Running off that blood traitor, Charlus. And _mating_ with him too. Downright disgusting.”

“I heard about Andromeda and her…” Avdima said, looking disturbed. “Creature.”

“She’s been properly disowned,” Rodolphus said. “Marrying a Mudblood and then giving birth to a halfbreed, yes, Bellatrix and I are quite happy to say that she’s been blown off the family tree.”

Knowing that they were bordering on Squib territory, a territory Ivy have no desire to discuss with any of them, she changed the subject abruptly, speaking to Mrs. Lestrange. “I hope I’m as pretty as you when I’m older.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her own hair was always more dry than lustrous like Bellatrix’s.

“Well, don’t we have a charmer,” Bellatrix looked smug. “You needn’t worry. You’ve received the Selwyn good looks and will make a lovely wife one day, I’m sure. That’s more than I can say for the homely appearance of your… sibling.”

Ivy glanced at her parents, deciding to ask the question she’d been wondering all night. “Why didn’t Hazel come to dinner?”

“ _It_ ,” Bellatrix’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “Doesn’t deserve to dine with purebloods.”

"Oh,” she stared at the Lestranges. “Then you two… know?”

“Don’t worry,” Rodolphus smiled. “We’re not going to tell anyone.”

Ivy let out a sigh of relief, which for some reason made all the adults smile at her, almost in unison. Finding it rather creepy, she went back to her meal, just thankful that the secret wasn’t going to get out before she had the chance to take Hazel away.

 _26 more days_ , Ivy thought.

* * *

On the verge of sleep, Ivy startled awake when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Her heart raced with that scared feeling she often got when waking up from a bad dream, though she relaxed when she found herself in bed. The room was dark but she could see the vague outline of her furniture.

“Hazel,” she heard her mother say outside the door. “Come downstairs.”

Ivy rubbed her eyes as the footsteps retreated. Sitting up, she got out of bed and went to the door, opening it as slowly and quietly as she could so her parents didn’t hear her up. Sticking her head outside, she found Hazel in the narrow hallway, closing the door behind herself.

She swung the door open further as Hazel walked along the pane of moonlight on the floor, let in by the solitary window at the very end of the corridor.

“What’s going on?” Ivy asked her tiredly.

“I think they want to talk to me,” Hazel whispered, her hair mussed from sleep in the moonlight.

"What about?” Ivy asked.

“I don’t know,” Hazel said quietly. “But I have to go before they get mad.”

The younger girl made a move to go downstairs, but hesitated. She fixed Ivy with a look so terribly morose that it woke her right up. Hazel reached a hand slowly up to her hair. Pulling black ribbons out of her mess of a braid, she held the adornments out for Ivy.

“What’re these for?” Ivy frowned, taking them.

“I don’t want them to get dirty.”

“Huh?”

Hazel just gave a sniffle and descended the stairs.

Ivy watched her go, before heading back to her room. Tossing the ribbons on the vanity, she wondered what they were talking about downstairs. In the dead of night, no less. More than that, something struck her wrong about her sister's behavior.

After a moment of debate, she decided that her curiosity couldn’t wait until morning.

Sneaking out of her room, she closed the door and tiptoed down the stairs in her pajamas. Glad she was wearing socks, as she could feel how cold the wood was underfoot, she spotted light coming from the open dining room doors.

Walking carefully over, she poked her head around the corner. However, she didn’t see Hazel. She only saw her parents sitting in low light. Her mother was at the head of the polished table, her father sitting to the left. They were still wearing the same formal attire from dinner and held hands in silence. They looked pleased.

Confused, Ivy backed into the hall again. She remained there for a moment, unsure of where Hazel could be until she spotted light coming from under the door to the cellar. Sparing another glance at the dining room, she went to the door, easing it open.

She heard voices coming from downstairs and quickly got onto the first creaky step, closing the door behind herself. A flash of white light brightened the staircase from around the corner at the bottom. Inching down the rickety stairs, she watched colorful flashes of light dance on the wall, wincing at every noise the stairs made.

Upon reaching the smooth stone floor at the bottom, she peeked around the corner. A glaring, electric green flash of light smothered her vision. The light was all she could see except for the black shadow of a small form lying on the ground.

Blinded, she stumbled back. Letting out a yelp of surprise as she hit the wall, her eyes started adjust to the low light and she realized that the potent flashing colors had stopped.

Bellatrix Lestrange was there within seconds, looming over her with her wand in hand, glee dying in her eyes. She blocked the view of the cellar and hissed Ivy’s name, giving her a rough shove towards the stairs.

She stumbled, but managed to dart around Bellatrix into the main area of the cellar.

And there, amidst her parents’ collection of wine bottles, was Hazel. Her little body was crumpled on the stone and utterly still. Ash blonde hair fanned out around the eleven-year-old, her blue eyes open and unseeing, her arm outstretched and bleeding.

Bile rose in Ivy’s throat as she read the word “SQUIB” carved into her sister’s arm.

Her dead sister’s arm.

Someone started screaming, someone who was probably her. She felt hands on her waist before she was thrown over Rodolphus’s shoulder. He started walking upstairs, saying something like “she’s just a child, Bella”.

All Ivy could think about was the bloody carving and the black ribbons she’d been given.


	4. Alternatives

**September 1 st, 1973**

Upon boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ivy kept her head down and steered herself away from the typical magical commotion. Finding an empty compartment at the very end of the train as it began to leave the station, she shut herself in without bothering to find her friends.

Ivy sat with her knees to her chest, head leaned on the window, not especially bothered by the way the train occasionally bounced, thwacking her head against the glass. Holding a piece of parchment in hand, she stared at the list of every alternative she’d thought of to murder.

The first on the list: _Simply do not commit murder_. The second: _Assimilate Hazel into a Muggle school_. At the very bottom of the list: _If you absolutely cannot stand to have a Squib for a daughter, Obliviate her and give her to a loving family._

Frankly, the list was the only thing keeping her sane. If she could call herself sane anymore, considering her parents acted as though Hazel had never existed around her. Ivy just hoped that she could keep from crying until she was at Hogwarts, where there were dozens of empty classrooms just begging to be cried in.

Hearing the door slide open, she stuffed the list in her pocket and looked at an unfocused point outside the window.

"Hey,” Regulus sat next to her.

“You alright?” Theya took a seat across from her, having noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “Do I need to commit an atrocity against someone?”

“Hazel’s dead,” Ivy said bluntly, hoping to get it out of the way. “That illness she had.”

As they said their condolences, she did her best not to think about what they would say if they knew Hazel was a Squib. Already having lost her sister, Ivy couldn’t bear the thought of losing her friends too, so she shut the thought down entirely.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Regulus said, sounding as though he didn’t know what else to say.

“There were actually about two-hundred and forty-one things we could have done.”

But what she felt wasn’t self-loathing. It was seething, calamitous hatred for her parents and the Lestranges. And there wasn’t a fraction of gentleness or understanding in it. It wrenched and coiled around her grief, pleading for cruel, merciless revenge. And she would have it. She didn’t know how or when or a single other thing about it, but she knew that she would have it.

Feeling Regulus take her hand, she was startled from her thoughts. Turning to look at him, she noticed the softness in his brown eyes and wondered if he could see what was in her own silver hues. Theya then got up and forcibly wedged herself between the window and Ivy, taking her other hand. Pinned securely between the two, she smelled pine trees and Theya’s mango shampoo, which instantly was a comfort.

“I’m alone now,” Ivy realized aloud. “I’m alone in that… fucking Estate.”

Theya gave her hand a squeeze.

"I know how you feel,” Regulus said quietly. “Not about your sister, obviously, but about being alone. Things at Grimmauld Place…”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and could’ve sworn she heard him sniff her hair. It made her smile, though she tilted her head a little to make sure he couldn’t see.

"Sorry,” Regulus sighed. “I know Hazel just passed, I don’t mean to make it about me.”

She let out a low chuckle. “I’d rather not even think about it in the first place, so if you have something you want to talk about, by all means.”

"Alright...” Regulus said quietly. “I just don’t understand why Sirius has to provoke our parents. Sometimes I think he wants them to hate him. Putting permanent sticking charms on the Gryffindor banners and Muggle photographs… I know he wants to be out of this family, but if he could just keep his head down, maybe they wouldn’t put so much pressure on me.”

She smoothed her thumb over the back of his hand comfortingly.

Although she did think Sirius’s rebellious behavior was brave, she could only imagine what would happen to her if she tried something like that. No, she preferred to fly under the radar like Regulus. They both knew that the trouble wasn’t worth it. Especially considering where the tiniest amount of trouble had gotten Hazel.

Ivy sucked in a breath.

“The only time I can relax is when I’m with you two,” Regulus said.

“Well,” Theya mused aloud. “Maybe I can convince mum and dad to let you two stay at mine for Winter Holidays. Merlin knows I could use some company.”

“I’d give anything to be an only child,” Regulus said.

She discerned in that moment that she _was_ an only child. There was no one left to protect but herself. Ivy had still been planning on speaking with the Professors about her faded bruises and Hazel being a Squib, but now she began to wonder what that would look like. What could the Hogwarts staff _really_ do? Maybe they would arrange for her to be taken away from her parents, but then what? She’d be penniless, exiled from pureblood society, and shunned by her friends.

Worst of all, what if she told and her parents decided to get rid of their problem child like they’d done with Hazel?

The thought put her over the edge and Ivy began to cry like she never had before.

* * *

Ivy woke to someone gently prodding her. Blinking hazily, she remembered that she’d fallen asleep on the train after changing into her robes. As she slowly began to regain her bearings, she noticed that her head was in someone’s lap and that that someone was playing with her hair.

Looking up, her eyes met Regulus’s and he gave her an embarrassed smile, immediately stopping. She didn’t want him to, but a glance around the cabin told her that her feet had landed in Theya’s lap, and that the golden-haired witch was the one who had roused her from sleep now that they had arrived.

Yawning, Ivy sat up and pulled the black ribbons from her white hair, as her bun was entirely messed up from napping. Redoing the style, she began to gather her things. As she left the train and arrived at the carriages, Ivy’s eyes went wide.

“Theya,” Ivy stared at the skeletal, winged horses. “What are those?”

“What do you mean?”

“The… horse… things,” she said unintelligibly.

“Horse things,” Theya echoed.

“Yeah,” Ivy glanced self-consciously at a Ravenclaw who was lingering a few feet away. “The things pulling the carriages.”

“Iv, how much sleep have you been getting?”

"Plenty,” Ivy lied with a scowl. “You’re really telling me you don’t see them?”

“No, I really don’t,” she cleared her throat. “Say, I need to stop by the Hospital Wing when we get to the castle for some Sleeping Draught. Come with me?”

Ivy gave her a look.

“Whatever,” Theya sighed. “Let’s get going, I don’t want to miss the Feast.”

“You go ahead.”

“Fine, but if you don’t find someone else who can see the ‘horse things’ by the end of the Feast, I’m taking you to the Hospital Wing.”

"That seems drastic.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who sounds completely barmy, so deal with it.”

Ivy watched as Theya went to speak with Regulus who was waiting several yards away. When they glanced in her direction, she made a nasty face at them, smug at the thought of how her mother might’ve reacted had she seen it.

“Great way to start the year, don’t you think?”

Jumping at the voice, she turned to find Emmeline Vance, a third year Ravenclaw. She had wild dark hair and shrewd green eyes that made her instantly envious.

“What do you mean?” Ivy asked.

“Having Thestrals pull the carriages,” Vance said. “Beg your pardon for the intrusion, but I overheard you and your friend talking about the, ah, ‘horse things’. Not many people can see Thestrals and I know how confused I was at first.”

“Oh,” Ivy blinked. “Um, why can only some people see them?”

“That’s the tough bit,” she winced. “Only those who’ve seen death can see them. And frankly, I dunno what Dumbledore was thinking bringing them here. If you ask me, it’s kind of like rubbing salt into the wound.”

“Rubbing salt into the wound?”

“Muggle expression. Means making something unnecessarily worse.”

Ivy’s lip curled at the mention of Muggles, though when she recognized that the phrase was clever, curiosity rose in the stead of distaste. She added Muggles to her mental list of things she needed to question. Recently having come to terms with how disgusting her parents were, she was beginning to ponder what else they were wrong about – what else _she_ was wrong about.

“Ah,” Ivy finally said. “How did-? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking, what…?”

“I saw a car crash,” Vance thankfully didn’t seem offended.

“Did you know the passengers?”

“Nah,” Vance pursed her lips. “Would’ve been a lot worse if I had. What about you?”

“My sister died a few weeks ago.”

“How?”

“Illness.”

“I see.”

“Yeah,” Ivy thought about the way Hazel had looked that night, in her pajamas with her hair mussed.

“What was she like?”

“Brave. Innocent. A terrible gift giver,” she choked on a breath that could’ve been a laugh or a sob. “She never knew what to get me, so she just kept buying me lavender perfume. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hated the smell. But now that she’s gone, I can’t think of wearing anything else.”

She wore both the perfume and the black ribbons daily. It was for comfort, but she also wore them out of spite. Whether or not her parents had noticed, though, was difficult to say.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss,” Vance said, sounding genuine. “I think I’d better get up to the castle, but if you need someone to talk to, come find me.” She turned to leave but stopped. “Oh, and Ivy?”

“Yes?”

“I hope the pain eases soon.”

As Vance walked off, Ivy stayed where she was, unsure what to make of those words. It had been such a gentle, loving statement that she could hardly believe a stranger had said it to her.

It made her want to curl up into a ball and weep until there was nothing left.

The pain would never ease.

Shaking herself, Ivy spotted Regulus waving to her with Sirius by his side. She met them at the last waiting carriage and Regulus got in first, giving Ivy a hand up. Sirius then hopped in and she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of his wand being tucked into his robes, but the movement was so short and fast that she wasn’t sure of herself.

As the carriage began to move, she was reminded of the last time she saw Sirius. Ivy stuck her nose in the air and scooted closer to Regulus.

“Sooo,” Sirius said, looking smug. “I heard you had a really bad summer, Ivy.”

She chose not to dignify his cruel question with an answer. Instead, she turned her face away and swallowed, trying her absolute best not to burst into tears.

“You’re really going to make fun of her dead sister?” Regulus snapped angrily, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “You're fucking evil!”

“Oh,” the smug look dropped dead off of Sirius’s face and his gaze snapped to her shoes. “I- I didn’t mean- shit. I just heard that- Bellatrix and Rodolphus came over and-”

“Stop talking, Sirius,” Regulus huffed.

“But-”

“Just _shut up_ , Sirius!” Regulus growled. “You’ve done enough!”

The rest of the carriage ride was silent except for the crunch of wheels on gravel and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. Once the wave of hurt had passed, Ivy took to staring Sirius down. Partly to make him feel bad, but mostly because he was being weird and kept looking at her shoes.

When the carriage stopped in front of the castle, Ivy made a move to get out but tripped off, landing face-first in the dirt. Her knees and elbows didn’t sting half as bad as her embarrassment.

“Are you okay, Iv?” Regulus asked as he made a move to hop down. However, he also landed in the dirt.

Ivy stood, trying to look unaffected. When she made a move to help Regulus, she tripped again, this time landing in the gravel, which scraped straight through her stockings. Realizing that Sirius had put the Tripping Jinx on them, she turned to yell at him. But even that movement ended with her in the dust.

She tried repeatedly to take a step, hoping each time that the spell had worn off, but had no success. Eventually, she just stayed on the ground. Ivy was a centimeter away from burst into a fit of furious, frustrated tears, but she was already bleeding from the palms and knees. She absolutely refused to humiliate herself further by sobbing on the ground like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.

“Why are you such a prick?” Regulus ask Sirius from his own place in the dirt.

“I was hoping it would wear off by the end of the ride!”

“Her sister just-!”

“I didn’t know, Reg! You think I’d do that if I knew?”

“That’s exactly what I think! And you want to know what else? I think you-”

“ _What_ is going on here?”

Professor McGonagall had arrived in dark purple robes, looking enraged.

“Sirius put Tripping Jinxes on us!” Regulus burst out.

“Sirius Black, Miss Selwyn is bleeding!” McGonagall barked.

“I didn’t mean to-!”

“Do hold your tongue Mr. Black,” McGonagall casted the counter spell. “Ten points from Gryffindor per child you dimwittedly decided to jinx before the term has even begun.” Sirius opened his mouth but she cut him off again. “I do not tolerate cruelty as you well know. And do _not_ , Mr. Black, make me take away more points from my own House. Now, the three of you, come with me.”

* * *

Once her wounds were treated, Ivy found herself in McGonagall’s office. Sitting in front of the crackling fire, she heard a pop and a snap. The Professor then handed her a goblet of pumpkin juice that had been flavored with nutmeg, just the way she liked it. She spotted a house elf holding a wooden tray of food that she could only assume had been taken from the Start of Term Feast. The house elf placed the tray on Ivy’s lap and evaporated into thin air with a sharp snap.

She looked questioningly up at the Head of Gryffindor House, who gave her a nod.

Ivy dug in at a feverish pace, eating the roast beef and potatoes as though she hadn’t been fed in a fortnight. As soon as she was finished, the same house elf popped out of thin air and vanished again with the tray.

“Thank you,” Ivy broke the silence. “I should’ve said so earlier, it’s just been a long day.”

“I assumed as much. And I think it’s safe to say it’s been not just a long day, but a long several weeks.”

“Yes,” Ivy said quietly.

“I understand that you recently lost your sister, Hazel.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. One so young should not have to bear such a burden as death.”

She shrugged in response, not sure how to answer.

“Forgive me, but your sister was a Squib, was she not?”

Panic shot through Ivy. “How do you know that?”

“It would’ve been your sister’s first year,” the Professor said calmly. “But Hogwarts didn’t send her a letter. In a pureblood family, that’s quite odd, quite rare. And a direct indication of being born without magic.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Ivy begged, already on the verge of tears. “My House, they’ll all hate me! And my parents will-” She cut herself off, not willing to be that honest with her Transfiguration Professor.

“No need to worry about that,” McGonagall said. “The only other person here who knows is Headmaster Dumbledore and I can assure you that we will both handle this matter with the utmost respect and discretion. No one will find out about your sister through us unless you should wish it."

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make an Unbreakable Vow for my reassurance,” Ivy said tentatively.

“You Slytherins always do need your reassurance, don’t you?” The Professor cracked a smile, something Ivy had never seen her do before. “No, Miss Selwyn, I am not able to make an Unbreakable Vow with an underage witch or wizard. To do so, in fact, is illegal. You would do well to remember that for the future.”

She nodded.

“That being said, you are able to trust both myself and Headmaster Dumbledore. With anything you may need to come to us about.”

Ivy seriously wondered for a moment if McGonagall had somehow managed to read her mind. However, that thought was dismissed quickly.

“Do you have anything you would like to speak to me about?” McGonagall still watched her with shrewd eyes from behind her spectacles. “Perhaps how your sister died so soon after her eleventh birthday?”

 _How does she know?_ Does _she know? How do I reply to that?_

“The Headmaster is privy to which students become able to see the Thestrals,” the Professor added. “That combined with your sister dying of a mysterious, unnamed illness, we thought that perhaps you had witnessed something.”

Ivy felt her shoulders tense, remembering the bright green flash of light and Hazel’s bleeding arm where the word “SQUIB” had been forcibly carved into her. Her blue eyes, young and unmoving. The unnatural, horrible stillness of her body on the cellar floor.

“I, um,” her voice cracked.

“Ivy,” McGonagall spoke gently. “We can only help you if you tell us what happened. If you do, I swear that you will be taken care of. No one will hurt you for telling the truth, you will be protected with the best that magic can offer.”

Ivy clenched her fists in her lap, unable to meet the Professor’s gaze.

“If you can trust just a little, we can and _will_ make things better.”

But she could not trust them. There was no guarantee, no reassurance that everything would be fine. She hadn’t been Sorted into Gryffindor. Ivy had been Sorted into Slytherin. She was not daring or stupid enough to take such a massive risk. Ivy would bide her time, choose her battles wisely, and be the last thing anyone saw coming.

And so, she left McGonagall’s office with the truth kept prisoner in her lungs.


	5. Infalliable and Consistent

**November 24 th, 1973**

Putting the finishing touches on her homework, Ivy reread her essay one last time in the dim green light given off by the lanterns. Once deemed _at least_ Exceeds Expectations worthy, she rolled up the three sheets of parchment. Tucking her Transfiguration homework into her bag with the quill and ink, she stretched out in her chair.

Most of the other Slytherins had cleared out of the Common Room. Aside from Ivy and her friends, there was only a pair of sleeping seventh years left on the sofa in front of the elegantly carved fireplace.

Regulus sat across from her with ink smudged across his nose, though she decided not to say anything as it made her smile. Theya, who was shooting sparks and stars from her wand, was sandwiched between Ivy and Snape, who was absorbed in a Potions book that looked advanced for a third year.

Bogey Girl, Ariadne Zabini, sat across from Theya and was copying off Regulus.

Ivy narrowed her eyes, none too happy about the new addition to their little circle.

She didn’t have a grudge over the Bat Bogey Hex incident, she just found Ariadne to be an obnoxious braggart as Ariadne had already made multiple claims about being a so-called prodigy. Some of which included that her Charms ability surpassed that of Professor Flitwick and that she was an incredible flier. This claim was despite her not making it past tryouts for the Slytherin Quidditch team, which Ivy, Regulus, and Theya had all failed miserably at a month prior.

Regulus seemed to take notice of Ariadne copying him, as Ivy watched him hastily put away his homework with a glare in her direction.

“You guys done?” Theya asked immediately, as though she’d been waiting for them to socialize. “’Cuz I convinced my parents to let you stay over the Winter Hols.”

“Thank Merlin,” Ivy sighed.

“Don’t thank Merlin,” Theya said. “Thank me.”

“Thank you, Theya,” Regulus rolled his eyes. “For saving my arse. And Sirius’s, because if I have to spend an entire two weeks with that prat, I _will_ curse him into a hospital bed.”

“You’re welcome,” Theya grinned. “But do be aware that I also accept thanks in the form of expensive gifts. Jewelry, rare trinkets, unlimited access to your Gringotts vault…”

Snape snorted without looking up from his book.

“What about me?” Ariadne piped up, brown eyes holding thinly veiled irritation.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Theya frowned. “I could only invite two. And they’ve been begging to come over since last year. Maybe over the summer.”

Ivy raised a brow at the lie, wondering if Theya regretted inviting Ariadne into their circle. Then again, it could’ve been some sort of envy tactic. After all, exclusion usually led to desperation for inclusion.

“Not to worry,” Ariadne said with an air of superiority. “The eighty-second Wizarding Schools Potions Championship is being held next summer and I should study up to make sure I win. Not that I need to study very much. I mastered Defense Against the Dark Arts in a year, so I doubt Potions will be that hard for me.”

“Wow,” Ivy said, knowing that Regulus was far better in DADA than Ariadne. “You know how to cast a Patronus, then?”

“Yes,” Ariadne deflated a little.

“A corporeal one?”

“Obviously,” she snapped.

“Could you show us?” Ivy asked sweetly, ignoring the kick to the shin she received from Theya under the table. “We’d all love to learn.”

Even Snape looked up from his book.

“In the common room? I don’t think there’s enough room. Besides,” her sense of grandiose appeared to return. “I wouldn’t want you all to feel bad for not getting it right on the first try like I did.”

“Got it right on the first try, did you?” Ivy smiled. “Think you should be in Ravenclaw. Why don’t you ask Dumbledore if you can transfer?”

Regulus snickered, earning an infuriated look from Ariadne, who proceeded to ignore Ivy’s snide remark. “The Sorting Hat _did_ want to put me in Ravenclaw.”

“They need to get that Hat replaced,” Ivy sighed. “I mean, that sounds like a colossal mistake if I’ve ever-”

“ _Anyhow_ ,” Theya said crisply as Ariadne bristled angrily. “I think we should all be off to bed. Early morning of classes tomorrow-”

“It’s Saturday,” Regulus pointed out.

“-so why don’t we all just get some rest, yeah?”

Theya shoved Ivy out of her seat and herded her towards the girls’ dormitory. Ivy waited until they had rounded the corner to release her laughter, though she kept a hand clasped over her mouth as to not wake the slumbering students.

“What was that?” Theya huffed.

“She had it coming, They,” Ivy giggled. “She’s bragging about stuff she doesn’t even know how to do. At least you and Regulus have talent to back it up, she doesn’t have anything.”

“Exactly!” Theya folded her arms. “She doesn’t have anything! Everyone calls her Bogey Girl and half the second years are still mad about last year. She was jinxed twice today just walking down the corridor. Ariadne’s just trying to make friends and you’re not making it easy on her.”

Ivy’s laughter faded. “I see your point.”

“Alright,” Theya said. “Go and apologize.”

“No. I’ll be nicer to her from now on, but I’m not going to apologize.”

“Go and say you’re sorry or I’ll tell Regulus that you think he’s cute.”

“Fine, tell him,” Ivy smirked. “I’d be happy to reap the rewards of _that_.”

“Hmm,” Theya narrowed her hazel eyes dangerously. “If you don’t apologize, I’ll tell him about that dream you had. The one about him _and_ Sirius.”

She gasped. “Don’t you dare!”

“REG-!” Theya began to yell.

Ivy lunged forward and clapped a hand over her mouth. “I swear to Merlin, if you-”

“What are you doing?” Regulus rounded the corner, frowning at them.

“Absolutely nothing,” Ivy removed her hand and straightened her robes, hoping he didn’t notice the deep flush on her face. “I just have an apology to make.”

* * *

**December 31 st, 1973**

Ivy was exponentially happy when she was allowed to visit the Greengrass’s for Winter Holidays. She was even more thrilled that Bogey Girl wasn’t coming when she received a letter on Christmas Day from Ariadne that contained a disturbing comment about the Squib Rights marches that’d started up again. If her memory was correct, Ariadne’s exact phrasing was: _Why bother protesting for creatures that are less Mudbloods, less than pond scum?_

There was a smug sort of relish sitting in her chest as she dined with Regulus, Theya, and Theya’s parents for New Years, knowing that Ariadne hadn’t been invited. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, but the Greengrass’s dining room, which was painted a light yellow color, was cheerful and awake.

By the time they started on dessert, Ivy wished Theya’s parents would adopt her. Reginald was a kind, short man and Sere was several inches taller than her husband, willowy, and mischievous. Ivy liked them far more than Avdima and Rhaen.

“So, Regulus,” Reginald ran a hand through his gold-brown hair. “I hear you excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Oh,” Regulus smiled politely. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well,” Reginald chuckled. “My daughter _actually_ tells me you that you’re top of your class. Bully for you.”

“I suppose I’m alright,” Regulus ducked his head.

“Clever and modest!” Sere grinned, her hazel eyes holding the same twinkle that Theya’s had when she was up to no good. “Say, do you plan to make an honest woman out of our daughter someday?”

Regulus choked on his pumpkin juice. He and Theya both looked directly at Ivy, which she did her best to ignore, instead choosing to shovel a bite of sticky toffee pudding into her mouth.

“Sere, don’t tease the boy,” Reginald shook his head with a smile. “Besides, it seems he’s already taken.”

“I’m not taken,” Regulus said, red in the face. “But Theya and I are just friends.”

“That’s a pity,” Sere said. “We’d love for Theya to end up with a witty boy such as yourself. Though, Ivy, that’s not to leave you out. We’ve heard a great many things about your magical ability also. Charms and dueling are your forte, are they not?”

“They are,” Ivy preened.

“From what I hear,” Reginald said. “You kids will be in the Slug Club come your sixth year. Horace _is_ a dear friend of mine from when I was in school so if you find yourselves needing a little extra bolster to get in, feel free to drop my name once or twice.”

“They’ll hardly need to do that,” Sere said. “I’m sure they’ll get in on their own merit.”

“Regulus and Ivy will,” Theya said. “I’ll get in for my connections and good looks.”

“That’s our girl,” Reginald clapped his daughter on the back.

The Greengrass’s were politicians at heart, so it was no wonder Theya was able to win over the surly Gryffindors and strict Ravenclaws; she was born and bred to dazzle and persuade.

“Right, well,” Sere said. “New Years is almost upon us, why don’t you kids run along? Reginald and I have a little celebrating to do on our own.”

“Ew,” Theya, Ivy, and Regulus said at the same time.

“She’s joking,” Reginald rolled his eyes, though Ivy sensed he was lying. “Besides, one day you won’t find it so ‘ew’ anymore. Now, scram. We have a bottle of 1845 firewhisky that needs to be opened.”

* * *

**February 9 th, 1974**

As the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was dismissed, Ivy tiredly began to pack her materials. Seeing that Regulus and Theya had already gotten their things and were waiting by the door, she gave them a hand motion indicating to go ahead without her.

They left and the class emptied to leave her and two other Gryffindor second years. Ivy paused to roll her neck, finding it achy from the night before. She’d been up for the better half of the night, studying and catching up on her homework, as the course load seemed to be getting heavier as the year went on. And as long as her brain was on overdrive, it was likely she wouldn't have any nightmares about flashes of green light.

As she finished gathering her things and pulled her bookbag over her shoulder, she followed the two Gryffindors from the classroom.

“…You should really come with, I heard the last Squib Rights march was very peaceful.” Marlene McKinnon, a pureblood, said as she tossed her blonde hair over a shoulder.

Ivy’s ears pricked up at the mention of the march. Ever since Ariadne mentioned it in her letter, she’d been curious and wondering if she could find a way to attend one.

“I don’t think my parents will let me,” Mary MacDonald, a Mudblood with dark hair replied uncertainly. “Protests can get out of hand and they wouldn't want me that close to Knockturn Alley."

“Come on,” McKinnon whined. “Just come over for Spring Holidays and they’ll never know.”

As the Gryffindors turned down a corridor that would lead her away from her next class, Ivy made a split-second decision to follow them. She kept her distance, walking nonchalantly a few feet behind.

“I’ll just lie,” McKinnon went on. “And tell my parents you got permission."

“I don’t think so,” Mary said as they entered the classroom. “Maybe ask Lily or Doe, it seems more like their kind of thing.”

Ivy kept walking past the classroom to circle around to her own class, finding herself rejuvenated by the thought that she might be able to spend some time with like-minded people.

* * *

**February 18 th, 1974**

Ivy spent several days scouring every issue of the Daily Prophets she could find, searching for more information on the Squib Rights marches. While she was able to find some old clippings about past protests, she didn’t find anything on the one McKinnon had mentioned.

Twice, she was tempted to just ask McKinnon or MacDonald to see if they could give her the details. But she ultimately decided against it, not wanting to deal with the questions. Either of the Gryffindors were likely to not trust her with the information, and anyway, she didn’t need them running their mouths to the school that she’d asked.

Instead, she chose to approach Theya with the subject. Theya was the person to go to for any type of social information, plus Ivy had taken the time to concoct a solid cover-up story. She waited until the end of dinner, once Regulus had gone to the Library to squeeze in some extra study time.

“I can’t wait until next year,” Theya was saying as they walked. “When we’re allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Who d’you think I should take?”

“Regulus and I?” Ivy suggested.

As they meandered past the Muggle Studies classroom, Ivy wondered if she could persuade her parents to let her take the class next year under the guise of needing to know their enemy.

“I can’t very well snog the two of you.”

“You want to snog someone?”

“Don’t you?”

“Isn’t thirteen too young for snogging?”

“Not for me. Next year, I’m going to get as much experience as I can.”

“Is that so,” Ivy laughed. “I thought purebloods were supposed to remain, you know, ‘pure’ and all that.”

“I’m not talking about sex,” Theya said. “At least, not yet. I’m going to get plenty of experience in that as well, but not for a few years. You can stay ‘pure’ if you want, but I guarantee you that nobody else will. It doesn’t really matter as long as you can provide an heir one day.”

Ivy shuddered at the thought of having a child. No, she didn’t want to think about that for a very, _very_ long time. If ever.

“Alright,” Ivy said. “While you’re getting experienced in Hogsmeade, who am I supposed to snog?”

Theya gave her a look. “I think you know who.”

“Regulus?”

“Obviously.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know,” Ivy said. “We’re friends. Besides, who knows if he even would think of me that way.”

“He tells me constantly that you’re cute.”

Ivy smiled smugly, though she realized that she’d never put a much thought into the idea of dating, snogging, or anything else related to the two. It just seemed complicated and messy. And, if she was going to be sold off to the highest bidder for a marriage contract, what was the point in dating?

She shelved the whole concept, doubting she’d be ready to snog anyone by next year anyway.

“Whatever,” Ivy said. “I guess Regulus and I will be at the mercy of Ariadne for Hogsmeade weekends.”

“She’s really not that bad.”

“Yes, she is,” Ivy retorted. “Yesterday she said she could duel Dumbledore and win. Half the time I can’t tell if she’s trying to take the mickey or if she’s really just that dense.”

“She wants you to think she’s cool.”

“She’s not helping her own case.”

“One day,” Theya said, looking as though she was already scheming. “I’ll get you to like her. Or at least tolerate her.”

“I already tolerate her.”

“You called her an overstuffed bint not an hour ago.”

“Yeah, behind her back.”

Theya just shook her head.

“So,” Ivy said, recognizing now as a good time to probe for information. “Are you doing anything fun for the Spring Holidays?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Alright, because I heard about this Squib Rights march that’s supposed to be happening in London. Some Slytherins mentioned that they were planning a counter protest.”

“Right, the march in Horizont Alley.”

“Yes, that one," Ivy concealed the excitement that rung through her upon learning the location. "When was it, again?”

“April 6th.”

“Oh,” Ivy frowned. “That’s my mum’s birthday. Nevermind, there’s no way she’ll let me go.”

“Your mum’s birthday is April 21st,” Theya narrowed her eyes.

_Shit shit shit._

“Right,” Ivy thought fast. “But she wanted to celebrate it over Spring Holidays since I’ll be home.”

Theya halted next to a stone-framed window and Ivy did as well, her heart pounding in her chest as the gold-haired witch analyzed her. It was silent for a long moment and Ivy forced herself not to fidget, to just give her friend a questioning look.

“You’re a really good liar, Iv,” Theya finally said. “Next time, make sure your story is infallible and consistent. Like my father always says, it’s only illegal if you get caught.”

Ivy stayed quiet, forcing her face into neutrality.

Theya took a step closer and lowered her voice. “You’re lucky you slipped up in front of me, instead of Mulciber or Rosier or… Any other Slytherin pureblood. Regulus included.”

“You mean…?”

“That I don’t care about all that pureblood supremacy shite? Yeah, I couldn’t care less. Frankly, I don’t care about either side of that argument. The Greengrass’s are always neutral.”

Ivy felt her shoulders relax. “I’m so glad to hear that-”

“There’s a _war_ going on, Ivy!” Theya hissed, suddenly angry. “I’m not sure you understand that. You can trust me when I say that I don’t care, but not _anyone else_. If anyone else from Slytherin says something like that, even Regulus, don’t you dare agree. You fact check the hell out of them before you even think about telling them the truth.”

Ivy opened her mouth to protest but was cut off again.

“I mean it,” Theya said severely. “If anyone doubts your loyalty to the pureblood side of the war, even as a second year, you’re in for a world of trouble.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious.”

“Maybe if you were a halfblood it wouldn’t be,” Theya’s voice was as quiet as a breeze. “But you’re not. You’re a pureblood, your family is on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and you’re the Selwyn heiress. Your family is matriarchal too, so you don’t have the luxury of just being married off to a Death Eater. Someday they will expect you to _be_ a Death Eater.”

Ivy felt horror rush through her as she recognized that Theya was right.

“We may not be involved in the war now, but we will be. You are already _so_ _deep_ in the pureblood side; I hate to think of what could happen if you tried to be otherwise.” Theya took a breath. “I’m not trying to scare you. I just need you to know that you can’t go around asking about Squib Rights marches.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Ivy asked quietly.

“Of course not,” Theya looked offended. “You’re my best friend. You and your sympathies are safe with me. You just need to be careful, especially if you’re going to lie to everyone you know.”

Ivy nodded solemnly.

“Look,” Theya reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. “My parents have been wanting me to practice Occlumency and Legilimency. Why don’t we learn together?”

“That would be great.”

Theya gave her a smile and pulled her into a warm hug, apparently having sensed just how much Ivy was needing one.

“Remember, infallible and consistent. Got it?” Theya whispered.

“Got it.”

* * *

**February 23 rd, 1974**

Ivy poked her head into the Library, doing a quick scan of the occupants. Not seeing who she was looking for, she frowned but walked in. Passing between the massive bookshelves, she kept an eye out for a head of greasy black hair and glanced at a clock on the wall. It was two pm on Saturday, so he had to be around somewhere.

After a few more minutes of searching, she finally found the hook-nosed third year in an alcove, his face hidden behind a massive book. Squinting a little, she read the title: _Advanced Potion-Making._

 _Of course, he’s reading a sixth year textbook_ , she rolled her eyes.

Reaching his table, she pulled out the chair across from him and dropped her bookbag on the ground. Snape lowered the text just enough to see over it. His black eyes narrowed upon seeing her and he lifted the book back up, entirely blocking his face from view once more.

“You’re hard to find,” Ivy said, deciding to get straight to the point, knowing there was no use trying to make pleasantries with him. “I need a Polyjuice Potion.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I made myself hard to find in order to be left alone?”

“Yes, actually. But unfortunately for you, I don’t know anyone else who can brew Polyjuice.”

“Go ask Zabini. She’s rather vocal about her supposed Potions aptitude and I’d really like to see what would happen if someone ingested a potion of her making.”

“Please,” Ivy huffed. “You and I both know it’d be healthier to drink poison. Come on, you’re better than half of the seventh years at Potions.”

“I’m better than _all_ of the seventh years at Potions. Still, flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to flatter you,” Ivy said honestly. “I actually had a proposition.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Hear me out. I know you’re worried that Evans likes Potter-”

Snape snapped his book closed and began gathering his things.

“-I have a plan,” Ivy went on, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. “To make sure that she _never_ likes him. It involves making him look like the imbecile he is. And, actually, I can promise that _no_ girl will ever like him after what I have planned.”

Snape stopped to frown at her, slowly retaking his seat.


	6. Standing With The Magicless

**February 27 th, 1974**

“Everyone ready?” Ivy whispered under her breath.

Regulus and Theya, who sat on either side of her, nodded.

“…And that is why,” Harditch, the DADA Professor, was saying. “If you see a four-toed foot, you’d better what?”

“Not stay put,” the class echoed half-heartedly.

Ivy rolled her eyes, having long since grown sick of his rhymes. She hoped that the rumored curse on the DADA Professor position rang true if only so she could stop getting the cadences stuck in her head. The learning technique was effective, sure, but it was also blisteringly annoying.

“Excellent,” Harditch nodded. “I expect two rolls of parchment on the nature of hags by next Friday. Class dismissed.”

As the second years began putting away their belongings, Ivy lagged behind. She packed her things painstakingly slowly as Theya wandered over to chat with James Potter, who, like clockwork, told Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew to go ahead of him.

Regulus was already at the front of the classroom, directing questions he probably knew the answers to at Harditch.

As the rest of the students left, Regulus slowly shifted his position, effectively turning the Professor’s back towards her. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Ivy crouched low, weaving between the tables. When she reached the one that had Potter’s disorganized pile of notes atop it, she ducked out of sight.

“I thought you might have some Quidditch tips for me,” Theya was saying in a sweet tone. “I’m completely hopeless on a broom.”

“What kind of Gryffindor would I be if I helped the opposing team?” Potter asked playfully.

Ivy peeked over the table, finding that Potter and Harditch’s backs were still to her. Giving a hand signal to Theya, who didn’t even look her way, Ivy slid her hazel wand out of her sleeve.

“But I’m not just _any_ Slytherin,” Theya batted her lashes.

“ _Geminio_ ,” Ivy whispered, at the same time that Theya released a loud cough.

Potter’s notes instantly duplicated and fell into Ivy’s arms. The parchment made a fluttering sound and he began to look in her direction.

“Please, James,” Theya stepped into his personal space, regaining his attention easily. “I really need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Ducking beneath the table again, she placed her wand on top of the stack of parchment. Slowly peering up once more, she double checked that she was in the clear and stood up straight. She began walking away nonchalantly, the messy array of notes and her wand tucked against her chest.

“Alright,” Potter said. “First tip, don’t fall off…”

Ivy escaped from the classroom, unscathed and smirking in triumph.

She strode a few corridors down until she located the window. Sitting on the ledge, she shoved her wand back up her sleeve and began leafing through the pages. Wrinkling her nose at Potter’s handwriting, she noticed that it was almost messier than his hair. Almost.

Within a few minutes, Theya and Regulus joined her.

“Get anything good?” Regulus leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

“Not yet,” Ivy said, still flicking through the sheets of parchment. “How about you, Theya? Get anything good?”

“Please,” Theya scoffed. “I asked Potter for Quidditch advice and he gave me a long-winded story about accidentally getting knocked off his broom.”

Ivy and Regulus snickered.

“Then,” she continued. “He proceeded to tell me that next year he’s going to be Gryffindor’s Quidditch team captain. I’m shocked that any broom can hold the weight of his massive ego.”

Ivy began to laugh, but stopped short to let out a gasp at a piece of parchment.

“What?” Theya hopped onto the window sill with her.

Regulus also leaned in closer to get a look, his scent of pine trees wafting towards her.

The parchment was, truthfully, one of the scariest things she’d ever seen. Front and back, the page was covered in doodles depicting Potter’s affections for Evans. There were hearts with “JP + LE” inside, big block letters saying “MR. JAMES EVANS”, and several truly terrible haikus.

“He took her last name?” Regulus laughed.

“Poor Evans,” Theya said, horrified.

“‘Roses are red,’” Regulus read aloud. “‘Violets are blue, Lily flowers are pretty, but not as pretty as you.’ Yikes.”

Ivy’s personal favorites, “Are you sure you’re not a Dementor? Because I’m sure I’d die if you kissed me” and “I might as well be under the Imperius curse, because I’d do anything for you” were crossed out. She wasn’t sure whether the pick-up lines had been used or if Potter had realized how dreadful they were.

“What’s that scratched out one?” Theya squinted. “‘Are you a snitch? Because I’d catch you.’ Thank Merlin he realized how sinister _that_ sounds.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he had a shrine set up somewhere,” Regulus said around his laughter.

“It’s disturbing for sure,” Ivy giggled. “But it looks like I have what I need.”

* * *

**March 1 st, 1974**

Standing in the Viaduct Courtyard, Ivy remained behind the stone column, out of sight from the enclosed garden. Beneath the covered walkway, she was already missing being in direct sunlight as early spring was cold against her face. Adjusting her green and silver scarf, she waited with Regulus and Snape, who were crouched behind the stone half-walls.

“Evans is here,” Regulus told her.

Ivy peeked around the column to see the third year standing in the middle of the Courtyard. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her auburn red hair and was waiting with a slip of parchment in hand. A few other students milled about the area, some studying while others walked across the grass.

“This better be worth it, Selwyn,” Snape said crabbily.

“It will be,” Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Where’s Theya, by the way?” Regulus asked.

“Plausible deniability.”

“Ah,” Regulus straightened. “Here they come.”

Ivy ducked low to crouch next to the boys, watching as Potter and his little posse arrived. She pulled Potter’s parchment full of embarrassing doodles from her pocket and set it on the ground just as Potter and his friends stepped forward to convene with the redhead, who immediately looked furious.

“The note was from you?” Evans yelled. “I told you to leave me alone!”

“You’re the one who asked me to meet you!” Potter countered, holding his own slip of parchment. “This is your handwriting; I’d know it anywhere!”

Ivy congratulated herself on her forgery, glad she’d taken the time to steal one of Evans’s Muggle notebooks. Mostly because she’d found a long, red hair stuck in the spiral, which was going to come in handy when she got the Polyjuice. But partly because Potter recognizing Evans’s handwriting was going to make things even worse for him.

She flicked her wand swiftly and precisely, performing two spells in a matter of seconds. Potter’s trousers were yanked down by an invisible hand, leaving him in his boxers, which were white for less than a second before suddenly bearing his own doodles.

This left James Potter standing in the Courtyard wearing underwear that, most noticeably, had “I HEART LILY EVANS” and “MR. JAMES EVANS” scrawled all over it. Amongst the rest of the humiliating things he’d written.

Evans screamed at the same time that Regulus and Snape burst into laughter. Regulus fell onto his side while Snape watched gleefully. Other students in the Courtyard had stopped, looking towards the source of the screaming, many of them gasping and whispering in horror.

“You sicko!” Evans shrieked, drawing her wand.

“It wasn’t me!” Potter helplessly tried to defend himself, pulling his trousers back up. “C’mon Sirius, tell her!”

“Mate, that’s your handwriting,” Sirius looked embarrassed. “That’s way too far, James.”

 _“Anteoculatia!”_ Evans pointed her wand at Potter.

Antlers began to sprout from his head, growing large and fast, very quickly toppling him over. Sirius and Lupin made a move to help him, Pettigrew lingering back. However, they all backed off as Evans went to stand over Potter.

“You _disgusting_ toerag!” Evans yelled. “Don’t ever talk to me again! And this time, actually bloody do it!"

As Evans stormed off between groups of gossiping students, Ivy, Regulus, and Snape took it as their cue to leave too before the Gryffindors started looking for the source of the chaos. They sprinted into the castle, past the Great Hall, their boisterous laughter echoing through the corridors.

When they decided they were far enough away, Ivy stopped running and put a hand against the cold stone wall. She hunched over a little, breathlessly giggling and trying to get ahold of herself.

“That-” Regulus started, just as out of breath. “That was fantastic. No one is going to go within fifteen feet of him for _years_.”

“Then I’ll consider it a success,” Ivy laughed.

She couldn’t wait to tell Theya all about it, though Theya was probably going to be the first to hear since she was perpetually at the center of the gossip mill.

“How did you do that, anyway?” Regulus asked.

“A modified Levitation Charm,” Ivy replied smugly. “A little tricky to work, but after that it was just a quick Transfiguration Switching spell.”

“I’ll have your Polyjuice within a month,” Snape told her.

“Polyjuice?” Regulus raised a brow.

Ivy just smiled.

* * *

**April 6 th, 1974**

Entering the Leaky Cauldron’s lavatory, Ivy locked the door behind herself and hung her bag on the hook of the door. The lavatory wasn’t very clean, nor was it the ideal location to drink a potion that was rumored to taste worse than the bottom of a goblin’s foot. But she couldn’t very well take Polyjuice at Selwyn Estate, so Ivy opened her bag and took out the thermos.

Unscrewing the lid, she pulled Evans’s long red hair from a jar. Already nauseous at the thought of drinking hair, she looked away as she dropped it into the potion. Strangely enough, however, when she looked back, the potion had turned a shimmery coral color and smelled like citrus.

Ivy pinched her nose and downed the drink expressly, refusing to even think about the taste until it was all gone. Once she was done, she was surprised to find an aftertaste of clementines.

Looking up into the mirror, she felt a burning, tingling sensation spread throughout her entire body. She could feel it from her scalp all the way down to her toes and watched as she began to transform.

Her limbs seemed to retract a little as she shrunk several inches, though her shoulders widened. Her white hair began to turn auburn red from her scalp all the way down to the ends, though it stayed roughly the same length, which was down to her elbows. By the time the transition was done, she was an emerald-eyed witch wearing shoes several sizes too big and her clothes hung baggily off her body.

Snape had told her that he’d only been able to get enough ingredients for an hour, but an hour of complete freedom was more than she’d ever had before.

Ivy excitedly got ready. Pulling a hat out, she tied her hair up and tucked it all under the hat. She put on a pair of sunglasses she’d nicked and tied a black scarf around her neck before stuffing all the other materials away.

Departing from the Leaky Cauldron, she headed into Diagon Alley. It was about as busy as could be expected for a weekend so Ivy stuck to the side of the street. She walked until she reached Horizont Alley, which intersected Knockturn Alley and Carkitt Market.

She paused to take it all in as she spotted the Squib Rights march passing by Flimflam's Lanterns, a storefront with dirty windows and lighting devices behind the glass. There were maybe thirty protesters, all holding signs. Some of her favorites included: _Wizards of quality don’t fear equality_ and _I stand with the magicless_.

Ivy spotted a head of sandy blonde hair that belonged to Marlene McKinnon, who was holding a sign reading: _Squib Rights = Human Rights._ She made a point to keep her head down as she moved to the back of the peaceful protest, as far away from McKinnon as she could get.

Unsure of what to do since she hadn’t been able to prepare a sign under the close watch of her parents, Ivy walked behind the group. Feeling unsure of herself for quite possibly the first time ever, she tried not to look as awkward as she felt.

“Do you need a sign?” A boy to her left asked.

She turned to find Benjy Fenwick, a fifth year Hufflepuff with medium brown hair smiling at her. His sign read: _“Squibs don’t belong in the shadows”_ - _Angus Buchanan._ He showed no indication of recognizing her as Lily Evans and she thanked Merlin for the small mercy.

“Yeah, actually,” Ivy adjusted her speech to sound less like that of proper purebloods. “That’d be great.”

He handed her a sign that read: _Down with discrimination._

Taking it, Ivy held up her sign, a goofy smile taking over her features. What she was doing felt small but _good_. At least for a while, she didn’t have to be the pureblood Selwyn heiress. For all intensive purposes, she was a Mudblood who had no responsibilities for the next forty minutes.

“I’m Ida,” Ivy said, thinking that the name wasn’t her best work, though it was a little hard to care when she didn’t have to be anybody right then.

“Benjy,” he said. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you,” she looked down at his sign. “Who’s Angus Buchanan?”

“He wrote _My Life as a Squib_ ,” Benjy told her as they followed to march down another street. “He was estranged from his family for being a Squib and later became famous playing on a Muggle rugby team.”

“I’ll have to pick that book up sometime. I don’t suppose you know where I could get a copy that has an altered cover?”

Ivy could easily charm the cover herself, but if her parents found her with the book as it was, well, she didn’t want to think about what would happen. Her parents had left bruises on her skin for less.

“I don’t,” Benjy said apologetically. “Why do you need one that's altered?”

“My parents wouldn’t approve,” Ivy said blandly.

“Pureblood?”

“Something like that,” she decided to be partially honest since, as far as he was concerned, he would never see her again. “We had a Squib in the family a while ago. My family’s reaction was… less than appropriate. That’s actually why I’m here. For her since she couldn’t be.”

“Huh,” Benjy looked at her sidelong. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to the Selwyns, would you?”

Ivy looked sharply at him, fear flooding her veins. “No, why?”

“Squibs are really rare,” Benjy said, looking a little suspicious.

“I didn’t know that,” Ivy mentally cursed herself. “What happened with the Selwyns?”

“I can’t say for sure,” his suspicious look appeared to fade. “There were just some rumors going around about a year ago that the family had produced a Squib.”

“Oh,” Ivy swallowed, wondering if it had been the Lestranges who leaked the information. Since they weren’t above murdering children, she wouldn’t put it past them.

“Yeah,” Benjy sighed. “They had this daughter that nobody saw for a long time. They told everybody that she was really ill.”

“You don’t think that’s what happened?”

“I dunno. She apparently died just a few weeks after her eleventh birthday. I heard my parents talking about it and they think the Selwyns are covering something up.”

“And everyone thinks this girl was a Squib?” Ivy probed carefully.

"It’s just a theory my parents have,” Benjy shrugged.

“Your parents are all for this march, then?” She hoped the slight change in subject wouldn’t seem too obvious.

“My parents are leading the march.”

“Lucky,” Ivy said bitterly. “My parents would murder me if they knew I was here.” The truth of that statement wasn’t lost on her. “Much less if they knew I was talking to a halfblood.”

“A halfblood?” Benjy frowned at her. “How did you know I’m a halfblood?”

She opened her mouth despite not having a response prepared, when yelling arose at the front of the march. Thankful that Benjy’s attention turned in that direction, she held in a sigh of relief. Rising to her tiptoes since she was now unusually short, she tried to see what the commotion was about.

A loud boom shook the ground, the sound reaching her ears just as an explosion threw her backwards. Ivy’s head hit the cobblestone hard.

Staring up at the sky, she watched shadows of people race around her. Her ears rang and she smelled smoke as a burning sensation starting to crawl through her. She sat up, her vision a little hazy, as sound slowly came back to her ears.

Ivy heard screaming and watched people rush around her, headed back in the direction of Diagon Alley. Trying to blink the haze of it all away, she realized that not only was the Polyjuice wearing off, but also that there was a horde of counter protestors advancing on her from twenty feet away. Their faces were outraged in a hideous way, twisted and shouting as a few of them charged forward, flinging colorful spells that flew over her head.

She reached up dizzily to feel blood dribbling down from beneath her hat, which had allowed half her reddish hair to fall out. As the purebloods advanced, she felt someone put their hands beneath her armpits, dragging her to her feet.

Now being supported by Marlene McKinnon, Ivy ran, doing her best not to pass out.


	7. Allies, Potions, and Adolescence

**April 6 th, 1974**

Ivy made it into Mrs. McKinnon’s arms before passing out.

When she awoke a few hours later, she was in what appeared to be the guest room of what she could only assume was the McKinnons’ house. She sat up on the bed, noticing that there was a bandage on her head and a little dried blood in her white hair.

Marlene McKinnon was curled up in a beige armchair to the left of the bed, watching her silently. Her blonde hair was tied back messily and she looked tired.

“Hey, Selwyn,” McKinnon said.

Ivy frowned at her, still feeling disoriented, before looking out the window to her right, where the sun was setting behind hills of half-melted snow. Remembering the Squib Rights march, she spotted her backpack at the foot of McKinnon’s chair.

“I believe a thank you is in order,” McKinnon prodded.

“Thanks,” Ivy rolled her eyes, though that immediately made her head pound. “Ouch.”

“Still hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” McKinnon eyed her. “Mum and dad think you should stay overnight while your head heals. You’ve got road rash all down your arm, too.”

Ivy checked over herself, indeed finding deep scrapes all over her right arm. By the look of it, it was definitely going to scar, and she assumed that that was where she’d landed when the explosion threw her.

“You didn’t tell my parents I’m here, did you?” Ivy asked.

“‘Course not. But they’re probably wondering where you are.”

“No, I told them I was spending the weekend with a friend. I was planning to go home early with an excuse, but…” A thought occurred to her. “You know why I was at the march, then?”

“Well, it’s not like you were counter protesting.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Aside from the fact that you were sitting on the ground, bleeding from the head? When I picked you up, you looked way different than you do now. There would be no need for a disguise if you were counter protesting.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not daft.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

There was a knock at the door and Ivy turned to see Mrs. McKinnon. Marlene was the mirror image of her, as they shared the same sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and round face. She was holding a tray of food, which she set at the foot of the bed.

“Hello, Ivy,” Mrs. McKinnon leaned against the doorframe. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oddly, not too bad.”

“Ah, well, that’d be the Murtlap Essence.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McKinnon. And thank you for… um, not contacting my family.”

“Of course, dear,” she smiled warmly. “And you can call me Pamela. Marlene filled Robert and I in on your situation. Your secret is safe with us.”

Ivy was relieved to hear that from an adult’s mouth.

“And,” Pamela said. “We’re glad that you now have an ally on the right side of things.”

With that, Mrs. McKinnon left the girls to their own devices.

“An ally, huh?” Ivy tested the waters.

“Apparently.”

She tried to hide her disappointment at the noncommittal response. “Do you know if Benjy Fenwick made it out alright?”

“I dunno,” McKinnon gave her an odd look. “I’ll owl him in the morning and find out.”

“Alright.”

Ivy ignored the tray of steaming lamb and vegetables at the foot of the bed, not feeling very hungry after the day she’d had. A glance out the window told her that the sun had all but gone down, as there were only dark shades of blue and purple left on the horizon.

“Why were you even protesting in the first place?” McKinnon asked curiously.

“Because Squibs deserve rights.”

“Obviously,” she squinted at Ivy. “You know what I mean. You’re a Slytherin. You only hang out with blood purists. I’ve heard you use the ‘M’ word on multiple occasions.”

“Because Mudbloods steal magic,” Ivy said pointedly.

“Don’t use that word,” McKinnon snapped. “And they don’t steal magic.”

“Yes, they do,” she insisted. “My parents have been telling me that since I was born.”

“They’re wrong. Like, _really_ wrong. Muggleborns don’t steal magic, they’re born with it. Same as you and me. Besides, where would they steal it from?”

“Purebloods,” Ivy said in a ‘duh’ tone.

“I hang out with Mary MacDonald and Lily Evans all the time. They’ve never stolen anything from me. I’m telling you; your parents are wrong. Muggleborns stealing magic is a load of shite, purebloods just say it to feel superior.”

“Are you sure?” Ivy asked skeptically.

“Absolutely,” she paused. “You can’t think everything your parents say is true if you were protesting for Squib Rights.”

Ivy frowned at her. For a moment, she did force herself to think about Muggleborns’ use of magic. She’d never felt her magic decrease when a Muggleborn was performing magic around her. And, now that she thought about it, she’d never been taught in class that Muggleborns were thieves. All of that had come straight from Avdima and Rhaen.

“Speaking of Squib Rights,” McKinnon said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because I don’t want to answer your question,” Ivy said harshly, agitated.

“Why not?”

“It’s a stupid question.”

“No, it’s not. Answer it.”

“Merlin, you Gryffindors really are stubborn.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me why you were marching for Squib Rights?”

“Because they killed her!” Ivy burst out.

At the same time that she spoke, bright blue sparks shot from her open bag. The door flung itself shut so hard that the wood cracked straight down the middle.

She and McKinnon were silent, staring wide-eyed at each other.

 _Hazel, eh? Wonderful wood, that_ , Ivy remembered Ollivander saying. _It’s known to absorb negative energy and disperse it at random so do be careful in times of stress._

Someone knocked on the door, causing them to jump.

“We’re fine!” McKinnon called quickly. “Accidental magic, we’ll fix it tomorrow.”

Ivy listened to footsteps retreat.

“We’ll come back to _that_ later,” McKinnon came to sit on the bed with her. “Who killed who?”

“My sister was a Squib,” Ivy looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink her tears away. “My parents had her murdered last August.”

 _I’ve never said those words out loud before_.

“Your parents _murdered_ your sister?” McKinnon whispered, horrified.

“No, they had someone else do it,” Ivy wiped at her eyes. “Cowards couldn’t even do it themselves. They made me tell everyone that Hazel was sick, but she never was.”

“You have to tell someone,” McKinnon said.

“No!” Ivy replied fiercely.

“Why not?” McKinnon made a move to stand up. “My parents are right in the other room! We could tell them and get you out tonight!”

“Please,” Ivy grabbed her arm, pleading as she started to cry. “Don’t! They had my sister killed just for being born without magic, McKinnon! Do you have any idea what they’d do to me if I told?”

“First of all, I think you can call me Marlene. Second, we can protect you.”

“You have no idea how deep this all runs. You have no idea how deep I am in all this. This isn’t just a matter of my parents or the Lestranges. This is a matter of pureblood society, which spans all throughout the Ministry, Hogwarts, Europe; it’s everywhere.”

“But-”

“ _Think_ , Marlene. My parents didn’t commit the murder, they’ll just claim Imperius. The Lestranges would be tried in court, but would they go to Azkaban? They’ll also claim Imperius, and believe me, the Ministry will buy it. The Selwyns and Lestranges are some of the oldest wizarding families in Europe and we both have connections that run to the other side of the world.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” Marlene said adamantly.

“You Gryffindors always just want to charge right in, wands ablaze, before even having a strategy. You want to be heroes and fix everything, but not everything can be fixed.”

“Yeah, well, you Slytherins always want to run and hide!”

“Yes, I do want to run and hide! I don’t want to lose everything, which I _will_ if this comes to light. I don’t want to be alone, and Slytherin or not, there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t want to lose my friends.”

“Your friends aren’t exactly good company. You know they believe the same as your parents, right?”

“Watch it,” Ivy growled. “Regulus and Theya are not the same. That might have some bad beliefs, but so did I until a few months ago. Or even a few minutes ago when you told me Muggleborns don’t steal magic. I love them and will not lose them like I lost Hazel.”

“Whatever,” Marlene scowled. “Your stupid friends aside, the point is that you need to say something about your sister.”

“No!”

“Come on-”

“I said _no_. This isn’t your secret to share.”

Marlene looked murderous at being denied. “Fine! I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Ivy huffed.

“But you can’t just sit around doing nothing with what you know.”

“I agree,” Ivy took a breath, starting to calm down now that she had Marlene’s word. “I’ve been trying to think of something to do but the best I’ve come up with is going to a Squib Rights march. It’s not like I’m of age and can go work for the Ministry. If you have any suggestions, then please, do share.”

Marlene was silent.

“Not that easy, is it?”

“Shut up,” Marlene muttered, taking a moment to think. “Okay, well, if you’re not going to do anything public, why don’t you just… I dunno, fuck things up from the inside?”

“What do you mean?”

“You had a point,” Marlene said pensively. “When you said that you’re really deep into pureblood society. Why not use that to your advantage?”

“How?”

“I don’t know. We can think on it and figure something out.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to throw you to the wolves. If I’m the only other person who knows about this, I can’t very well abandon you in your time of need.”

“So, we’re, like, friends now?” Ivy raised a brow.

“Only in private,” Marlene smirked.

“I can live with that.”

* * *

**June 23 rd, 1974**

Ivy yawned, her head propped up by a hand, as she stared at her History of Magic textbook. She’d been reading it all weekend in preparation for final exams, and the words were starting to swim off the pages.

She rubbed her eyes, glancing at the others. Regulus sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace with Ariadne and Theya on either side of him. Bogey Girl had fallen asleep on Regulus’s shoulder as he quietly read his book. Ivy sat to the right of the sofa beside the fireplace, Snape having taken a seat opposite of her. The five of them created a near perfect semicircle around the fireplace.

“Snape,” Ivy tilted her textbook to give him a look. “Are these letters moving?”

“No,” he gave her a strange look before continuing to scrawl on his parchment.

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled.

Eying Regulus, she squinted at Ariadne’s head on his shoulder and decided that she very much did not like that. Ivy laid her thick textbook open on her lap, then slammed it shut loud enough that Bogey Girl snapped awake.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Oops,” she smiled at Ariadne. “Snape, are you almost done? I could use some help on my Potions essay.”

“Ask Ariadne.”

Ivy glared at him.

“I can help,” Ariadne said proudly. “I _am_ top of our class in Potions.”

Regulus let out a laugh that he quickly tried to cover up as a cough.

It was widely known that Damocles Belby of Ravenclaw was the top of their class in Potions. Even Theya looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes and Ivy wondered when Theya was going to stop forcing them all to hang out with Bogey Girl.

“I’ve even gotten better than Severus,” Ariadne added boldly.

She glanced at Snape. He looked offended, having halted the movement of his quill.

“Ariadne,” Ivy said. “What grade did you get on your Potions exam last year?”

“An Outstanding,” she said smugly.

“Huh,” Ivy said thoughtfully. “Snape, what was it that Slughorn told you after last year’s exams?”

“That I’d bought myself a one-way ticket to Slug Club come sixth year.”

“And what year are you again?”

“A third year.”

“Ariadne,” Ivy smiled. “What ingredients do you need for a Befuddlement Potion?”

"Easy,” Ariadne smirked. “Sneezewort, Moonstone, and Lovage.”

“That’s not the right order,” Snape said. “Or the right ingredients. It’s Scurvy grass, Lovage, and Sneezewort. Then you stir clockwise once.”

Ariadne glowered at them both.

“And what other potion is Sneezewort used for?” Ivy inquired of her.

“The Draught of Peace.”

“A Strong Invigoration Draught,” Snape corrected immediately. “If you mix it in with the ingredients of the Draught of Peace, which are powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn, it will explode in your face and your eyebrows will singe off. Unless, of course, you use a very tiny amount, say, a quarter teaspoon. Then you’ll just change the color from turquoise to grey and render the mixture completely useless for anything other than a substitute for manure.”

Ivy grinned. “And Ariadne, do you know-?”

“Bugger off, Ivy!” Ariadne got up and stormed off.

Ivy bit back her laughter until Ariadne was out of sight. Then, it burst out of her.

“Little harsh, Iv,” Theya frowned.

“I’d say just harsh enough,” Regulus looked enamored. “She’s been bragging about how good she is at everything for months; I think we can all agree we’re sick of it. She’s probably a lot more pleasant to be around when she’s not trying to prove she’s better than us.”

“You’re not wrong,” Theya sighed. “How did you even know all those answers, Ivy?”

“She didn’t,” Snape said.

“But she knew that Ariadne wouldn’t either,” Regulus interjected. “And that Severus would.”

“I’d better go after her,” Theya packed up her things.

“That was all for you, Snape,” Ivy said as Theya left. “Well, it was a little bit for me. Alright, it was mostly for me. But you reaped the rewards.”

“You,” Snape said. “Can call me Severus.”

Happy that she’d finally been redeemed from her social blunder the year before, she allowed herself to look as smug and satisfied as she felt.

“You know,” Regulus scooted nearer to her. “You’ve gotten meaner.”

Ivy arched a brow.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “I like it.”

* * *

**August 28 th, 1974**

“AND NEXT UP WE HAVE OUR HOGWARTS CHAMPION, SEVERUS SNAPE!” The commentator for the eighty-second Wizarding Schools Potions Championship said, their voice booming throughout the massive enchanted garden.

“He’s up!” Theya hollered, getting to her feet and beginning to cheer wildly.

Ivy followed suit, as did Regulus and Ariadne, screaming Severus’s name as his distant form, cloaked in black, emerged into the garden. The roaring crowd around them was already deafening, but Theya seemed determined to be the loudest of them all.

The arena, as the commentators called it, was massive. It was encircled by rows and rows of stone seats that held people from Europe, Russia, Japan, and Africa, who had all come to cheer on their school’s representative. The garden itself was beautiful but lethal. It had a number of walls, temples, and other obstacles within, while still maintaining a magical, if not luminous, appearance. There were more plants of various colors, sizes, and degrees of deadly than Ivy could count.

“Think he’ll win?” Ivy asked Regulus over the commotion.

“If not by skill, then certainly by pride!”

Ivy laughed, her happy energy fueled by the cheering crowd.

Lifting her binoculars up to her eyes, she scanned the bystanders, having been assigned by Theya to look for anybody they might know from Hogwarts. While she could tell the European witches and wizards apart from everyone else, she had yet to spot anyone that looked like they were there to support Severus, as opposed to Hogwarts.

“AND MR. SNAPE IS NOW FACING THE BANSHEE - VIOLET AS WE LIKE TO CALL HER - HE APPEARS TO BE CONCOCTING A LAUGHING POTION IN OPPOSITION!”

Ivy moved her binoculars to the garden, quickly finding Severus. He was running at full speed, gathering ingredients from the garden and throwing them together in the cauldron he had held against his chest. If he hadn’t been in actual danger, it would’ve been a rather funny sight.

“He’s going to be so shocked to see us after!” Regulus yelled.

“Still think surprising him was a good idea?” She hollered back, dropping her binoculars.

“It wasn’t my idea, it was Theya’s!”

Ivy raised her eyebrows, looking past Regulus to Theya, who stood beside Ariadne, grinning from ear to ear. She wondered briefly whether Theya might have a crush on Severus before deciding better of it. Theya had always been a good friend to those closest to her and Ivy knew she would do the same for any of the rest of them.

That still included Bogey Girl, unfortunately.

“LADIES AND GENTS, HE’S DEFEATED VIOLET! BUT CAN HE ALSO FEND OFF VICTOR? THAT, MY FRIENDS, IS OUR TROLL! HARD ON THE EYES, BUT HE CAN ACTUALLY BE RATHER SWEET!”

“What’s the plan for after?” Ivy asked loudly, watching as Severus began on a new potion, whipping around the arena and throwing together potions quicker than she’d seen any of the other contestants

“We’re going to the tent!” Regulus hollered.

“The tent?”

“Yeah! Theya set it up!

Ivy shrugged. She’d discussed staying at Theya’s for the night anyway and as long as she could spend another night away from Selwyn Estate, she was happy.

The ugly, twelve-foot troll made a swing for Severus and Ivy screamed.

“AND HE EVADES VICTOR! HE’S MIXING THESE POTIONS FROM MEMORY, EVERYBODY! HE’S NOT EVEN BOTHING TO USE THE BOOK! AH!”

Even the commentator was alarmed as Severus turned on his heel and threw his potion into the troll’s face. Its gray skin began to melt right off its bones as though the potion was pure acid. Severus darted out of the way as the troll swayed and slammed to the ground.

“DAMN, HE’S KILLED VICTOR! AH, WELL, C’EST LA VIE, ON TO THE NEXT!”

Ivy watched, mouth agape, as Severus climbed a temple and flew right off the top to the ground. He fought off a Manticore and managed to turn an Erkling into some sort of shrub. Most of the creatures he defeated he came back around to use parts of in other potions. It wasn’t until Severus reached the gigantic serpent that Ivy clung to Regulus’s arm, half in terror and half in anticipation.

“AND WE HAVE REACHED VICTORIA, WHO IS HALF BASILISK AND HALF DRAGON! A FEW FUN FACTS ABOUT HER: SHE’S DEVOURED THREE-HUNDRED AND SEVEN CONTESTANTS SINCE 1407 AND ENJOYS LONG SLITHERS THROUGH THE ORCHARDS – THAT’S WHERE WE TAKE HER FOR NAPTIME!”

The snake was larger in height than the temples and had six black, beady eyes that reminded Ivy of Severus’s when he was ticked off – which was, incidentally, quite often. The serpent had an opalescent, spell-repellent hide, which they found out quite quickly as Severus shot a spell at it. It bounced off and away, nearly taking Severus’s legs with it.

“WE ACTUALLY LOST POOR HENRY TO VICTORIA JUST YESTERDAY! QUITE A SHAME, HE WAS A NICE CHAP! OH – SORRY EVERYBODY, THOUGHT THE MIC WAS ON MUTE!”

Not particularly interested in watching Severus get eaten alive when they’d just become friends, she went back to looking for Hogwarts students. She ignored the sound of a massive explosion and the crowd’s collective, panicked gasp, assuming all was fine when they began to cheer again.

Turning her binoculars toward the family stand, which was probably the best seat in the place, she was surprised and disturbed to not see anyone there. She zoomed in and ignored the crowd, even as the commentator praised Severus’s victory over the serpent, which apparently involved a modified Draught of Living Death, Erumpent Potion, and him diving into a pond.

Even upon zooming in, Ivy saw no one in the stand. She dropped the binoculars with a frown, wondering where the hell his family was, as the sound of canon fire reverberated around the arena.

“AND SEVERUS SNAPE HAS MADE IT OUT ALIVE! OUR YOUNGEST PARTICIPANT YET AT THIRTEEN-YEARS-OLD AND HE EVEN MANAGED TO BLOW A CHUNK OUT OF OL’ VICTORIA!”

* * *

“There he is!” Theya squealed, apparently still high off the crowd’s excitement.

Ivy spotted Severus emerging from the stone archway that led out of the arena, a giant golden cauldron in tow. His black hair looked greasier than usual, although that could’ve just been from of the tournament.

“Hey!” Theya shouted at him. “Youngest ever Wizarding School Potions Championship Winner!”

Severus scowled and looked around as though for an enemy before spotting them. As Theya ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, his face turned bright red, stuck between confusion and astonishment.

“What are you doing here?” Severus asked as the group convened.

“We’re here for you,” Ariadne rolled her eyes, helping him put down the cauldron. “Obviously. You didn’t think you were friendless, did you?”

By the look on his face, he did.

Ivy thought about how there hadn’t been any family in the stands for him. A confusing protectiveness and defiance burst in her chest at the idea of it.

“And,” Ivy walked over, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve got a tent all set up for tonight. Just the five of us. Think your parents will mind?”

“They won’t mind.” Severus didn’t make a move to nudge away her arm, which was a pleasant surprise. “You really did all that for… for me?”

“No,” Regulus smirked. “We spent a fortune to get here because we wanted to watch Alexei Ivanov get eaten by Victoria. Condolences to his family, by the way. Did you know him?”

“No,” Severus said, still looking in shock.

Ivy exchanged a look with Regulus. “Theya, grab the cauldron.”

Within seconds, she and Regulus had hoisted Severus onto their shoulders. He hissed out a few words of protest, but was drowned out when the other four Slytherins started chanting his name victoriously. They carried Severus all the way back to the tent, hollering wildly with Ariadne and Theya, who was red in the face from carrying the cauldron. Several groups of other European witches and wizards join in on the chanting when they passed by.

By the time they reached their own tent, Ivy was certain she’d never seen Severus so happy.

* * *

"And when you chopped off that Manticore’s scorpion tail!” Regulus sat up on his knees, making a motion as though he was swinging a sword. “ _So_ cool! I didn’t even know there was a potion that could create weapons!”

Everyone’s faces were flushed and grinning as they sat on their separate cots, which they’d pushed together to form a circle after eating dinner. The tent itself was rather lavish, certainly the most expensive tent she’d ever seen, as it was neatly decorated with expensive-looking paintings and knickknacks.

“Just wait until we tell everybody at Hogwarts,” Ariadne said from where she laid on her stomach, her cot to the left of Ivy.

“Yeah,” Theya grinned from her spot in between Severus and Ariadne. “All those Gryffindors are going to eat their words.”

“They’re not going to believe it,” Severus sounded dejected.

“Please,” Ivy scoffed. “It’s going to be in the Daily Prophet. Not to mention that a quarter of Britain was here as eye witnesses.”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Regulus said from Ivy’s right. “None of us are above cursing a few Gryffindors if they try to turn your victory into something else.”

Everyone made sounds of agreement and Severus looked like he was suppressing a smile.

“Alright,” Ariadne clapped her hands. “Who wants to play Kiss, Marry, Crucio?”

Severus and Regulus let out groans at the same time that Theya and Ivy cheered.

“Nuh uh,” Regulus crossed his arms. “I’m not getting roped into this again. Last time we played, Ariadne ignored me for a week.”

“Severus ignored me too,” Theya grumbled.

“Because you said you wanted to kiss me!”

“I didn’t mean it,” Theya said defensively. “It’s just a game.”

Ivy wasn't sure she believed her.

“Alright, alright,” Ariadne cut in. “We won’t use the names of anybody in this tent. How’s that?”

Regulus and Severus still didn’t look too happy, but when the girls began to plead and bat their lashes, they almost instantly caved.

"Let’s start with… Theya,” Ariadne grinned wickedly. “Avery, Mulciber, or Rosier?”

“Easy. I’d kiss Rosier, marry Avery, and Crucio Mulciber.”

Ivy and Ariadne nodded in agreement, though the boys looked confused.

“Why?” Severus asked.

“Because Rosier has dreamy eyes, Avery is marriage material, and Mulciber is disgusting.” This didn’t seem to ease the boys’ confusion, but Theya already had a mischievous look in her eye. “Ivy, Sirius Black, Potter, or Pettigrew?”

“Ugh,” Ivy groaned. “Couldn’t give me something easy? I’d rather just Crucio all of them.”

“Choose,” Theya said in a singsong voice.

“Fine. Don’t get mad, Regulus, but… I’d kiss Sirius, marry Pettigrew, and Crucio Potter.”

“You’d kiss my brother?” Regulus shouted.

“Would you rather I marry him?” She shot back.

“I’d rather you Crucio him!”

“It’s not my fault that he’s… you know…”

“Fit,” Theya grinned.

“I like the sound of Potter getting tortured,” Severus piped up.

Regulus scowled at the floor.

“Why would you marry Pettigrew?” Ariadne looked disgusted.

“He’d be easy to boss around,” Ivy smirked. “It’d be like having another house elf.”

“I pity your future husband,” Theya muttered.

Ivy glared at her but decided to move on. Not wanting to be obvious, she skipped over Regulus. “Severus. Vivienne Parkinson, Delcine Zabini, or Evans?”

He glared at her. “I don’t have to answer that.”

"Come on,” Ariadne whined. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Fine,” his response was clipped. “I’d kiss Vivienne, marry Lily, and Crucio Delcine.”

“You’d Crucio my sister?” Ariadne looked offended. “What’s wrong with Delcine?”

“You guys look so alike,” Severus said. “It’d be like kissing or marrying you.”

Theya and Ivy burst into laughter.

Ariadne looked murderous and began shouting.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Regulus said over her.


	8. Worst Fears, Worst Desires

**October 19** **th** **, 1974**

"What is this?" Ivy asked, coming to stand on the outskirts of the DADA classroom.

All of the tables and chairs were gone, leaving the space empty aside from Professor Middow's desk at the far end and a massive, ornate wardrobe that stood at the center of the room. The windows that covered most of the right wall let in stormy light and all of the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors loitered on the fringes of the classroom.

"Not sure," Theya said.

The wardrobe gave a rattle, jostling on its own as if something was inside.

On instinct, Ivy's wand slid from up her sleeve into her hand.

"Looks like it's going to be a lot more hands-on than usual," Ariadne frowned.

"Let's hope it's not a werewolf," Regulus said reproachfully. "Those things are terrifying."

Ivy eyed the other third years in an attempt to glean what they might be facing, but everyone looked equally confused. She made eye contact with Marlene from across the room and gave her a nod of recognition. Marlene returned it with a little smirk. They had started studying together as a cover for hanging out and Ivy recalled their conversation from the day before.

" _It doesn't bother you that we can't openly be friends?" Ivy had asked._

" _My friends would give me the same amount of shit as yours would."_

" _But you're a Gryffindor. Isn't this considered cowardly?"_

" _Trusting in a conniving Slytherin? Risky, sure, but definitely courageous."_

Smiling to herself, she watched the Professor enter the room with a flourish of his wand that had the doors shutting behind him. He was a short, balding man with a bit of a belly who Ivy, mortifyingly enough, was taller than. She was just glad that Regulus had finally grown to be her height, and that Severus, too, was gaining on her.

"Listen up everybody!" Middow called, gaining the silence he asked for. "Today, we're going to be learning about the joys of Boggarts. Now, these are non-beings that will shapeshift into the form of your worst fear."

The relaxed expressions dropped right off of Ivy and Regulus's faces.

As the Professor went on to explain how to defend against Boggarts, Ivy's heart pounded. She didn't need to confront the Boggart to know that it would take the shape of an eleven-year-old girl with the word "SQUIB" carved into her arm. Worse than that, there was nothing she would be able to do if Hazel spoke the dreaded words: _You didn't avenge me. You didn't change anything. You forgot about me, Ivy._

Middow had the third years line up and the spot at the very back of the line was hard fought, but ultimately didn't go to Ivy or Regulus. Instead, it went to Avery and Davey Gudgeon, a Gryffindor.

Interestingly enough, Theya and Ariadne were at the front of the line.

"Can you imagine," Regulus said quietly. "Having such a peaceful life that you're curious about your worst fear, instead of already knowing what it is?"

Ivy blinked at him, unsure how he managed to voice her exact envious feelings.

The Professor then let the Boggart loose.

Theya stood with her wand drawn as it shifted through a hundred forms, so quickly that Ivy could barely comprehend what they were. After some time, it settled into the shape of a fancy ten-person dining set, where an exact replica of Theya sat by herself at the head, looking miserable.

"What's that about?" Regulus murmured.

"Her worst fear is being alone," Ivy said quietly.

" _Riddikulus!"_ The table got on hindlegs and starting doing a jig.

Ariadne was up next and she approached the Boggart, which instantly turned into Ivy. Complete in her perfectly arranged Slytherin uniform with black ribbons in her hair, there was a look of smug disapproval on her face.

All eyes turned to the real Ivy, who immediately put a neutral mask on her face and threw up another wall around her mind for good measure.

She watched Ariadne yell: " _Riddikulus!"_

The fake Ivy exploded into a thousand silver and blue butterflies. Ariadne walked directly to the back of the classroom and stood by the door, looking at no one.

Ivy paid little to no attention to the students who went next, only taking slight notice that Marlene's Boggart was a giant centipede. She had never considered that she might be someone's worst fear and the idea both intrigued and repelled her. Had it been someone else fearing her, perhaps one of those obnoxious Gryffindors or her parents, it would've been thrilling.

But not when it was one of her own, which Ivy hadn't realized that Ariadne was, until that moment.

"Mr. Black, you're up next," Middow said, effectively snapping Ivy out of her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing that Theya had joined Ariadne, who was running a hand through her dark hair. Many of the Gryffindors were casting pitying looks at Ariadne and worried looks at Ivy, as though she was about to _Avada_ the entire class.

Turning her attention forward, Regulus's Boggart finalized in seconds.

Ivy stared at a tall woman with luscious black hair and sharp grey eyes. Her posture was rigid and her face was, perhaps, even colder than Avdima's. She held a wicked-looking wand in her thin fingers, making Ivy understand exactly what his mother did to become his worst fear.

" _Riddikulus!"_ Regulus yelled.

Walburga Black started sprouting boils.

Ivy stepped forward, wand at the ready.

 _If I'm quick enough_ , she thought. _Maybe no one will even see the Squib scar._

The Boggart flickered when faced by her. It shifted into Hazel, looking precisely as expected, though as Ivy opened her mouth, it switched into the form of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Taken by surprise, she hesitated.

Bellatrix was only a little bit taller than her now, though her wild, shiny curls were exactly as she remembered. There was a warm smile on her lips that nearly counteracted the effects of her eyes, which were still those of a serpent. She, unlike Walburga Black, didn't look dangerous.

She looked affectionate.

"You're just like me," the fake Bellatrix said proudly.

Just as hate and hurt started to boil within her, Bellatrix changed into Hazel again.

" _Riddikulus!"_ Ivy shouted, turning her sister into a kitten.

She didn't take a moment to breathe or recover, as she didn't want to show any weakness or sign of what her two greatest fears meant. Nor did she want to think on them too long.

Turning on her heel, she walked over to Ariadne and Theya, who had been joined by Regulus. Thankfully, they were isolated from the other third years, which gave her the perfect opportunity to sort out Ariadne's worst fear.

"I'm a bitch," Ivy said bluntly to Ariadne, not bothering with pleasantries. "But I shouldn't be a bitch to you. I don't want to be your Boggart. Honestly, you just boast a lot and I don't like it."

Theya groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I get it," Ariadne said, surprising Ivy. "I just wanted to make friends after the Bat Bogey Hex incident."

"We are friends. I've just been a shitty friend."

"And I've been annoying."

"You're done being obnoxious, then?" Ivy smirked playfully.

"As long as you're done calling me Bogey Girl behind my back."

"I'm done," Ivy said earnestly. "Promise."

* * *

 **January 2** **nd** **, 1975**

Ivy sat at the head chair of the dining room table, having more fun than she could've thought possible, seeing as she was at Selwyn Estate. Her parents had allowed her to invite friends over for her birthday instead of forcing her to sit with them the entire day as they typically did and she was incredibly grateful for it.

All the regulars were there, seated around her: Theya, Regulus, Ariadne, and Severus. She'd already opened the majority of the gifts and the table was covered not only with an assortment of beautifully decorated sweets, but also loads of wrapping and tissue paper.

"Saved the best for last, huh?" Theya slid over a small box.

Ivy snorted, delicately peeling back the wrapping paper as her favorite house elf, Minsty, popped to her side to start clearing away all the wrapping paper. She was reminded of how a few weeks ago, Marlene had mentioned the Ministry blocking an appeal against house elf slavery back in '73. She'd never thought of house elves as slaves until Marlene said that. But as a direct result, she'd been making a conscious effort to be nicer to them.

"Thank you," Ivy spoke under her breath, not wanting her parents to overhear.

Opening the little box, Ivy's eyes went wide. Theya had gifted her a silver and opal ring. As she moved the ring around in the light, she noticed some yellow and pink hidden in the gem.

"It's gorgeous," Ivy slipped it onto her right pinky finger where it fit best. "Where did you get it?"

"Just had it lying around," Theya said.

Ivy squinted at her and playfully tested the boundaries of Theya's mind. Not with the intent of malignant invasion, but simply because they had begun an Occlumency and Legilimency game. It mostly consisted of trying to breach the other's mind as a warning to always be on guard. Fortunately, it had been months since either of them were able to get past each other's defenses.

"Alright, _technically_ ," Theya smirked as she successfully blocked Ivy's attempt. "It's a Greengrass heirloom. What my parents don't know won't hurt them."

"Shouldn't we use a Doubling Charm so they-"

"Ivy, dear," Avdima called from the doorway. "Come here a moment."

It was a challenge not to roll her eyes at her mother's use of the word "dear", something she only said around guests to make them think she loved her daughter. Hopping out of her seat, Ivy met her mother in the drawing room.

Avdima was seated on the dark blue sofa that was poised in front of the massive, carved fireplace. Her mother patted the seat beside her.

Ivy obeyed and came to sit, practicing Occlumency as she suppressed the thoughts and emotions that would not bode well in this situation. Neither of her parents were Legilimens, but it was good practice since they were some of the last people she would want in her head.

"Once your friends leave," Avdima said. "I'll need you to change into your best evening gown. Preferably, one that shows a little cleavage."

Ivy gave her a disgusted look.

"Don't look at me like that," Avdima narrowed her silver eyes dangerously. "You're fourteen now, surely you remember what that means."

 _Fuck_ , she thought, having indeed forgotten.

"Honestly," her mother said, exasperated. "You'll need to do better than that. You know that we Selwyns always have a battle strategy and not having one when it comes to marriage will not bode well for you."

"Being at war with my future husband doesn't sound much like a marriage."

"Don't," Avdima thumped her on the back of her head. "Sass me. Or you'll get much worse than this at the end of the night."

Ivy tried to think soothing thoughts, like her mother burning alive.

"All the potential suitors will be over at seven o'clock sharp. You will use makeup, magic, and some cutlets I bought since you appear to be lacking in the chest region. You will make yourself look pristine, elegant, and desirable."

Ivy seethed at the orders she was given but kept her mouth shut.

"I know it pains you to smile," Avdima said patronizingly. "But you will do so. Flirt, but be discreet. You will dance with each suitor at least once and you will not let out any of those little retorts you like so much. If you don't have a husband picked out by the end of the night, I will pick one for you."

"I'm not cattle," Ivy said coolly. "You can't fatten me up and sell me to the highest bidder."

That earned her a sharp slap across the face. Ivy clenched her jaw against the sting, touching her cheekbone with a finger. On the pad, she found a little blood from where her mother's ring had nicked her.

"Giving you an option of who you marry," her mother hissed. "Is a courtesy. I will take it away if I get another comment like that. Understood?"

Ivy gave a terse nod.

"I said," Avdima glared at her. " _Understood?"_

"Yes, mother."

"Good," she got to her feet and smoothed down her raven robes. "Now, I'm going to grab the Black boy. Give him a tour of the Estate. He's the wealthiest of your potential husbands and would be the best prize, if you can play your cards right."

With that, Avdima left the room to retrieve Regulus. Obeying her mother's orders, she gave him a tour, leading him through the rest of the mansion.

"That's the den," Ivy pointed out flatly as they strayed further from her mother. "And that old hag you were just speaking with is a cunt whose murder I'm going to start planning this evening."

"Whoa," Regulus looked startled, his eyes lingering on her cut. "Why is your cheek bleeding?"

"Why is Walburga your Boggart?"

"Alright, alright, jeeze," he frowned at her and paused for a moment. "You know I can help with planning that murder, right?"

"I might take you up on that."

Ivy stopped as they neared the cellar door. Her anger was spiked with sorrow as she remembered what had happened not twenty feet from her. The memory of green light flashed into her mind, the Killing Curse only allowing her to see the outline of her sister as she was murdered. A bloody, carved arm came to mind right after.

"And _that's_ the cellar," Ivy started shaking.

Barely able to contain the rage that simmered beneath her skin, Ivy spun on her heel and headed for the front door. Regulus chased after her as she fled into the daylight, darting between the trimmed hedges. She made it to the secret area of the garden within minutes, storming into the space with her wand already drawn.

Beholding her and Hazel's hidden space, she trembled with fury. She hated the swing she used to sit on with her sister, the fountain they used to play in, the Moly plants in the corner that she used to heal Hazel, and the ruins of the old Selwyn home.

Most of all, she hated that the garden was untainted.

Quickly kissing the pad of her index finger, she placed it briefly on the stone archway. Ignoring Regulus, who said her name from behind, she letting out an ear-splitting scream of frustration. She lashed out harshly and unyieldingly with her wand, flinging every curse and Dark spell she could think of. She sliced down the swing, severed the tree branch that held it, threw a _Bombarda Maxima_ at the fountain, and then ripped down the old Selwyn house ruins with her bare hands.

Overwhelmed with hate, she channeled all of it into her magic until there was nothing left to destroy. Somewhere along the line she had started crying, something that she didn't notice until there was nothing left to take her anger out on.

Still trembling, she collapsed in the stone archway, tucking her knees to her chest and hanging her head hung low as she began to sob.

* * *

Regulus sat beside Ivy in the grass as she started to weep, pulling her against him.

She tried to push him away at first, and had he thought she truly meant it, he would have released her. But he knew that she wasn't fighting him. There was clear evidence of this in the way that she quickly gave up and instead clung to his robes.

He'd never held Ivy before, but he thought that it, overall, felt right. The parts that felt wrong were her tears soaking into his robes and the cut he'd seen on her face after being alone with her mother.

Walburga could hurt him all she liked, but he wouldn't stand for that happening to Ivy. Truthfully, if Ivy wanted to go through with murdering her mother, he would help and do so gladly.

The heartbroken sobs she let out into his chest only reinforced the idea.

As subtly as he could, he breathed in her lavender scent, trying to calm his own anger.

Regulus began stroking her hair in an attempt to console her as he looked around the Estate grounds that she had quite literally obliterated. There were broken tree branches and shattered stone everywhere. He could even feel something jabbing into his lower back due to the half-lying-down position he was in. But he wasn't about to jostle the crying witch in his arms.

If he was being quite honest, watching her destroy the garden had turned him on.

It was one of the reasons he hadn't tried to stop her, along with understanding that she just needed to let it out. Seeing her skillfully and gracefully throw vicious spell after vicious spell at inanimate objects, absolutely decimating everything in her path, had been one of the hottest things he'd ever seen.

Of course, the stiffy it had given him had been zapped away the second she started crying.

Noticing that Ivy's sobbing had turned into the occasional sniffle, he pulled away, much as he didn't want to. Half her hair had come out of the ribbons that had held it in its typical bun. Her molten silver eyes very nearly knocked the words right out of his head, but he forced himself to focus on the redness around them instead.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Regulus asked.

"My mother's a cunt."

"I gathered as much," he let out a little laugh. "For what it's worth, my mother is, too."

"I gathered as much," she teased half-heartedly. "I didn't mean what I said about Walburga."

Regulus nodded, accepting her half-assed apology. If he was being quite honest, the way that she never truly apologized was one of the things he liked about her.

Ivy quietly fingered the collar of his robes. "My mother told me about tonight…"

"The auction," Regulus said with distaste.

While he was all for pureblood tradition in general, there were a few areas that needed improving. The way witches were used as societal pawns by their families and then only valued for breeding purposes was one of them.

"Yes, that," she sighed, voice then quieting an octave. "Hazel died in the cellar. I saw the door and just needed to get out of there."

"You never talk about her," Regulus said, testing the waters. "I understand why, but that's really the only thing you've told me about her death."

Ivy stiffened in his arms and he worried she would leave. Instead, she stared him hard in his eyes, though he couldn't tell what she was feeling as her face revealed nothing.

"It was the worst day of my life," she finally said.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost Sirius," Regulus confessed, though it was a hard confession to accommodate.

Although he agreed with his parents on most things, he still had a soft spot for Sirius. Not that his older brother knew that. And not that he would ever tell him.

"That's why I lost it when I saw that cellar door. Things with my mom and my future were fucked, then I just _had_ to be reminded of Hazel's death. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have destroyed the only place she and I loved, but I have to admit, it felt amazing."

"It _looked_ amazing," Regulus told her.

Ivy smiled at him and he could've sworn he saw her eyes drop to his lips.

He ignored the thought of how soft her lips probably were, instead directing his attention to her hair, which was all mussed from her unleashing hell on the Estate.

"The ribbons were Hazel's," Regulus said. "Weren't they?"

"How did you know that?" Ivy looked caught off-guard.

"You never wore anything in your hair before she died."

"I'm surprised you noticed."

"Being on the quieter side usually lends itself to astuteness."

"Well, you're nothing if not clever," Ivy heaved a sigh and sat up. "We should probably get back."

"Probably. If your parents ask, I whisked you away for a romantic _hands-free_ rendezvous."

She laughed and looked him over. "That sounds nice."

There it was again, one of those statements that he couldn't differentiate between friendly and flirty. Regulus didn't think that girls were more complicated, like Severus said when he brought them up. If anything, he'd found that it was usually just that blokes were dense.

And he, unfortunately, was not as clever with witches as he was with academics.

* * *

Ivy had turned on her charm for the night and found that the desired effects – or, more accurately, her mother's desired effects – came easily. Perhaps it was because she was dealing with horny wizards.

While it was easy to charm them as they spun her around the ballroom, what she found difficult was not only breathing –-as her mother had insisted upon wearing an old-fashioned corset-– but also hiding her disgust.

She understood that with all the makeup, a few beauty-enhancing charms, and the dark blue gown that she wore, she was an alluring sight to behold. Still, she didn't need to perform Legilimency to see that the majority of her suitors were thinking about taking her to their bed.

And most of them weren't just boys, but _men_. Men twice her age or older, who had come for the sole purpose of ogling fourteen-year-old goodies, much as she lacked goodies to ogle.

Ivy, of course, had no desire whatsoever to marry any of them.

If she wanted someone her own age, which she did, she only had a few options. Avery and Mulciber were in her year at school, but they were cruel and wicked. The same problem arose with Rosier and Wilkes, who were a year above her.

That just left Regulus and Rabastan Lestrange, a seventh year Slytherin. The former would be fabulous, except that she had no idea how to ask him to marry her. The latter was a definite no because although Rabastan was actually quite courteous and handsome, there was no way Ivy was going to have family dinners with Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

So, the first chance she got, Ivy pulled Regulus from the elegantly decorated Selwyn Estate ballroom and into a darkened corridor. She could still hear the voices of the party but was thankfully out of sight from all the creeping eyes.

"This is awful," Ivy said, turning her back on Regulus and pulling her white hair over her shoulder. "Would you loosen this corset? I'm seeing stars."

Regulus abided by her wishes.

"Thank Merlin," she let out a relieved sigh as the corset loosened. "Now all we need to do is find a way to leave the country so I don't have to marry one of those imbeciles."

"They're all that bad?" Regulus chuckled as he reworked the laces, having given her the breathing room she needed.

"Worse," she turned to face him as he finished. "I told Rosier Senior that we tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team –-left out how we all failed miserably, again, of course-– and he told me a woman's place is in the bed, not on a broom."

"That's disgusting," Regulus grimaced. "I'd have told him that a woman's place is with a wand in her hand, threatening to _Avada_ him."

Ivy laughed. "Can you imagine the look on his face if I said that?"

"That's assuming he would hear you," Regulus smirked. "He's, what, sixty?"

"Sixty-five. If I was married to him, I'd be counting."

"Counting the days until he dies, more like."

Ivy guffawed, though she clapped a hand over her mouth as her laugh echoed down the corridor. The last thing she needed was to get caught avoiding the party, even if doing so was the most fun she'd had all night.

"Rabastan would be a good husband," Regulus said, avoiding her gaze. "He's a lot closer in age than everybody else."

"I think he would be, too, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know," Ivy rubbed her lips together. "The only person here I could actually imagine marrying is, um… You."

"Me?" Regulus looked taken aback.

"Yes," Ivy said quietly.

"You would want to marry _me_ after Hogwarts?"

"I mean," she tried to think of a way to make the proposition seem less intense. "Seeing who my other choices are, I think you'd be the best option."

"Oh," he frowned.

"You know, if it's you or some old geezer," Ivy regretted the words as soon as she said them. "What I'm trying to say is that it would be mutually beneficial. You wouldn't get stuck with someone you don't know or like and neither would I."

"I'm your last resort, then?" Regulus's frown deepened.

"No! Not at all. I mean, a little because I don't have another choice, but-"

"You're really selling a happy marriage, you know that?"

"Look," Ivy panicked, trying to think of something that would sway him. "You could date whoever you want until we got married."

"You would want to date other people?"

"Don't you?" Ivy realized too late that her tone made her sound as though she did.

"Wow," Regulus said frostily. "Not only are you going to marry me as a last resort, like the lesser of two evils, but you also want to fuck around with other people until then?"

"This is coming out all wrong," Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm doing my best! I just- I've never asked someone to marry me before."

"It's fine," he said coolly. "We get a convenient marriage and can fuck whoever we want before we're chained to each other for eternity."

"Who said anything about _fucking_ other– chained? That is _not_ what I meant by-"

"By calling me a last resort? That's what it sounded like."

He swept past her angrily, hurrying down the corridor.

Before she could even call after him, he slipped back into the party. Tears pricked at her eyes as she felt the sudden rift between them grow wider with each passing second.

Usually, she was an expert at words and conflict. She'd grown to learn when to keep her mouth shut and typically knew precisely what to say to get her desired outcome. It was a skill that she'd consciously been honing, but what had just happened with Regulus wasn't at all what she had wanted. And she had no idea how to fix it.

The fact was, she had grown too comfortable with him. Not only that, but she didn't feel in control when she was with him. Things were too natural between them and the conversation they'd just had was proof that she had to stop letting her guard down around him.

Ivy straightened her back as she made her decision, feeling a cold barrier of calm settle over her. She would agree to marry him after Hogwarts, or pretend to until she found a way to get rid of a marriage contract. But she could not let herself be so genuine with him again and risk letting something about Hazel slip.

What mattered was avenging her sister. Not some boy.


	9. Pent-Up

**March 8** **th** **, 1975**

Thoroughly plied with sugar from his trip to Honeydukes, Regulus stood with Ivy and Ariadne, overlooking the Shrieking Shack. The old, rickety house took on the same appearance as the rest of the cottages in Hogsmeade, with the exception of it being abandoned and looking like it.

"Think it's really haunted?" Ariadne asked.

The little dark-haired witch moved closer to Regulus, who pretended not to notice despite the action setting his teeth on edge. A stolen glance at Ivy, who was wearing the same Slytherin scarf as him, told him that she hadn't noticed either. Or, she had and didn't care. The latter seemed more accurate considering her behavior since the Winter Holidays.

"Maybe," Ivy said. "It doesn't feel haunted. Not like Hogwarts or… Selwyn Estate."

"You have ghosts at the Estate?" Regulus asked.

"No," Ivy said thoughtfully. "But there's two different types of hauntings. One that has to do with ghosts and one that has to do with the living. If anything, the Shrieking Shack has something to do with the living. Hauntings tend to leave an imprint."

Regulus exchanged a bewildered look with Ariadne. He knew Ivy was prone to making ominous, borderline omniscient statements, but it still made him uneasy.

"How do you know if there's an imprint?" He asked.

Ivy gave him a look, like he was the one being weird. "You can't sense it?"

"No," Ariadne looked at her watch. "We need to get going or we're going to be late."

The trio set off, trudging through the snow towards High Street and the Three Broomsticks. Only after Regulus lost his balance on the icy roads and fell into a snowdrift did Ivy cast a Warming Charm on them. Thankfully, by the time they stepped through the doors of the pub, Regulus had mostly dried from his stint in the powdery snow.

The Three Broomsticks was a little smoky, but otherwise just the kind of cozy environment he liked for studying, as it wasn't too loud but still had background chatter.

They found Theya at a table towards the back where she was lip-locked with her latest conquest, a fifth year Hufflepuff, Amos Diggory.

"Hey, guys!" Theya broke away to grin at them, her lips swollen. "You've met Amos."

Regulus mumbled his hello and ordered a gillywater, thankful when Diggory got up to use the bathroom.

"I see you've been busy," Ariadne smirked.

"Shut up," Theya glared at her playfully.

"Busy isn't bad," Ivy grinned. "In fact, I may have to take a page out of your book. At least, that's if I want a date for the Hallowe'en Ball next year."

As Madam Rosmerta dropped off their drinks, Regulus sipped his gillywater quietly. He didn't want to go to any Balls, but maybe it would be a good opportunity to make Ivy jealous. He _had_ started snogging Vivienne Parkinson after the Winter Holidays, so maybe if they were still doing so by next year, he could take her.

"You could always snog Sirius," Ariadne shot an inconspicuous glance at Regulus. "He seems to be… willing."

Regulus gagged on his gillywater at the thought of Ivy kissing his brother and Theya thumped him on the back. When he looked up, everyone was looking slyly to their right and he followed their gaze. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd failed to notice Sirius at the next table, snogging a Slytherin fourth year, Lucinda Talkalot.

"You've heard about him by now, right?" Theya asked them a low tone.

"Everyone's heard about him by now," Regulus grumbled.

Sirius was apparently attempting to snog or shag every girl in school and then some. He'd gotten quite the reputation for himself, though at the rate Theya was going, she'd be his rival by next year.

"He's gotten quite fit, hasn't he?" Ivy asked dreamily.

"He's a blood traitor," Regulus snapped. "You know that, right? He only hangs out with halfbreeds and Mudbloods."

"Yes, well." Something in Ivy's gaze turned frosty, as though he'd struck a nerve. "We're allowed to see other people, remember?"

"I suppose I should just go find Vivienne, then. She's been seeing _plenty_ of me, lately."

"Fine," she drawled. "Go on. I'll just be here, five feet from your brother. Though before the weekend is up, who knows? Perhaps we'll get closer than that."

Regulus snatched up his coat and headed for the door, fuming at the thought of _his_ Ivy snogging his _brother_ of all people.

* * *

"What was that about?" Ariadne asked.

Diggory returned and made to take a seat.

"Amos," Theya stopped him by giving him a sweet smile. "Would you do me a huge favor? I left one of my new fur-trimmed gloves in Zonko's, I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to fetch it for me?"

"Wouldn't want those delicate fingers to get cold," Diggory kissed her cheek.

He then grabbed his coat and left in the direction of the door.

As soon as he was gone, the smile dropped off Theya's face. "Delicate fingers, my arse. These fingers have been doing some rather _indelicate_ things recently, which he mighty well knows."

Ivy made a face.

"Oh, whatever, Iv," Theya rolled her eyes. "Just because your sex drive hasn't kicked in yet doesn't mean it never will."

"You've been having sex?" Ariadne looked mildly disgusted in her typical uptight fashion.

"No, I've just been slowly exploring other stuff," Theya shrugged. "Anyway, Ivy, what was that all about with Regulus? You two have been weird since Winter Hols."

Ivy sighed, deciding it was time to explain, as she'd been putting it off for months. She gave them a brief overview of her disastrous conversation with Regulus.

"Yikes," Ariadne frowned.

"Seriously," Theya glanced over at Sirius, who was still lip-locked with the blonde. "But you're not actually thinking about…"

Ivy hesitated.

Since things imploded with Regulus, she'd honestly developed a bit of a crush on Sirius. He had the looks, sure, but it was more than just the shaggy black hair or the muscles; Sirius was good. A bit of a prick, definitely, but he didn't buy into all the pureblood purist shite like Regulus. The eldest Black son voiced his opinions, talked to Muggleborns, and befriended blood traitors.

 _Maybe I don't have a crush on him_ , Ivy thought. _So much as a crush on his life._

"I'm not going to snog Sirius," she finally said in a hushed tone. "I just said that to rile Regulus up. Things are already bad enough between us without me swapping spit with his brother."

"And, anyway, Regulus was right," Ariadne said. "Sirius Black is a blood traitor."

Ivy bit back a sigh and stirred her butterbeer, daydreaming about a time when she didn't have to perform anymore.

* * *

 **May 12** **th** **, 1975**

Ivy opened her Daily Prophet over lunch, as she hadn't had the chance to read through it during breakfast. That morning had been a whirlwind of slapping together her homework since she'd fallen asleep while finishing it the night before. She'd had a nightmare of a high, cold voice saying "You remind me of Bellatrix" and awoke from the dream so consumed with her own creeping thoughts that she'd accidentally went to class with dried ink on her forehead.

Reading over the headline and main article of the Prophet, she raised a brow. Minister for Magic, Eugenia Jenkins, had been determined inadequate to challenge the rise of Lord Voldemort, as she was just replaced by Harold Minchum.

Pressing her lips together, Ivy remembered that over the Spring Holidays, her parents had started whispering again. This time, it wasn't the word "Squib" being uttered with disgust; it was the words "Dark Lord" being spoken with reverence.

While Ivy hadn't been invited to any meetings with said Dark Lord, her parents had started leaving the Estate for hours at a time, returning full of chatter about the upheaval of impure blood.

 _Your family is matriarchal too_ , Ivy remembered Theya saying. _So you don't have the luxury of just being married off to a Death Eater. Someday they will expect you to_ be _a Death Eater._

Ivy had a sick feeling that Theya was right, that this was the beginning.

Glancing around the Slytherin table, Ivy pulled a list from her pocket.

It had been charmed to look like a list of homework assignments when it was really a list of ideas on how to, as Marlene had so eloquently put it, "fuck things up from the inside". She had thought about every which way to murder her parents and Lord Voldemort, including poison, Muggle tactics, and pyrotechnics, but every plan she and Marlene went over ended with Ivy six feet under.

The only item on the list she thought had potential was: _Become a Death Eater_. But she couldn't imagine being allowed to do so at fourteen.

Even so, Ivy had been practicing her dueling and Occlumency skills every chance she got since the Divination incident back in April. She had been staring in a crystal ball for a good hour, when in the depths of the white fog, she saw a man with slit-like scarlet eyes. She had been so scared that she'd whipped out a _Bombarda_ and shattered it.

"Ivy!" Theya's voice broke into her thoughts.

She quickly tucked away her list and spotted Theya, whose golden-brown hair was soaked in sweat as though she'd run from one end of the school to the other.

"The Gryffindors are fucking with Severus again," Theya panted.

Rolling her eyes, Ivy tossed aside her newspaper, tucking the list safely into a pocket, and followed Theya out of the Great Hall and castle. She was led onto the warm sunlit grounds and could already see the commotion from a distance. Small figures stood beneath a tree by the Black Lake, already in the thick of a duel while a few others stood by.

Ivy's wand slid from up her sleeve into her hand as she and Theya grew closer.

The altercation appeared to be between Severus, Sirius, and Potter. Evans was involved as well, because _of course_ she was, though she remained on the sidelines with Lupin.

"…Cut it out! All of you!" Evans was shouting.

"Theya probably went for some Prefects!" Lupin told her.

"Nope!" Ivy sprinted past him, running to Severus's side as he shot a purple spell at the Gryffindors. She deflected a yellow blast of light that came her way, then threw out her own bolt of red.

"Come on," Evans groaned. "Girls are supposed to be smarter than boys!"

Ivy shot a Conjunctivitis Curse at Sirius's head, one that he barely managed to block. Something about the interaction made him grin and she knew what he was thinking right away: _I like a challenge_.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she threw herself into an onslaught of hexes and curses, shooting one after the other so quickly that she had him sweating within seconds.

Theya, Evans, and Lupin continued to shout for them to stop, being generally overdramatic.

As she threw up a Shield Charm, then sent a Bat Bogey Hex Potter's way, she realized that she was having fun. Not only that, but she was much better at dueling than all three of the boys. Blasting out a Leg-Locker Curse, she was grinning as she toyed with them, having already spotted their weaknesses.

Potter's was Severus, and vice versa, since neither of them paid much mind at all to Ivy. Sirius's was Potter, who he kept glancing at to make sure his mate was alright.

Ivy let Severus get a few shots in on his nemesis before ending things.

When Severus and Potter were between breaths, she took her chance.

" _Arresto Momentum_! _Expelliarmus_!" Her first spell hit Potter, though he was able to deflect her second.

Sirius watched the ordeal, giving her the time she needed to land a Conjunctivitis Curse right between his eyes. His eyelids began to swell and he sent a _Redactum Skullus_ her way, though it shot right past her head as Potter went to his friend's aid.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Ivy hollered, Sirius's wand flying to her hand.

" _Levicorpus_!" Severus shouted at the same time.

Potter's ankle looked like it had been snatched from under him as he was lifted into the air, his robes falling over his face in the process.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Severus gained Potter's wand, looked painfully smug. " _Sectum_ -"

Ivy sent a Disarming Charm Severus's way and found herself with all three of their wands. If she was being truthful, she liked the feeling of taking away their power. Perhaps a little too much.

"What was that for?" Severus barked, snatching his wand back.

"Just to see if I could," she lied smoothly.

The truth was, while she was entertained by Potter aggressively punching the air as though that would let him down, she knew Severus wouldn't stop until one or all of them were in the Hospital Wing. It was part of the reason she'd joined in in the first place.

" _Levicorpus_?" Ivy asked him, throwing Sirius's wand in the air and catching it. "Haven't heard of that one."

Severus ignored her, likely mad that she'd ruined his fun, and ran after Evans. The redhead had already started storming up the hill towards Hogwarts with Theya at her side.

Rolling her eyes, Ivy walked over to Lupin, who was at Sirius's side. He jumped up defensively, holding his wand out as she approached, eyes flashing gold for a moment.

"Relax," she tossed the Gryffindors' wands to the grass. "Just came to return these. Keep your friends in check from now on, Lupin, I don't want to have to save their arses again."

"Save their arses?" He echoed. "Look what you did to Sirius!"

"You don't want to know," Ivy glared at him. "How much worse it would've been if I hadn't stopped Severus from using that last spell. I'm talking potential death."

"Then maybe keep _your_ friends in check and don't let them use shite like that!"

She smiled patronizingly at him, knowing that he didn't understand Slytherins in the least. "Do fuck off."

* * *

 **August 22** **nd** **, 1975**

"12 Grimmauld Place!" Ivy shouted.

Throwing the Floo Powder at her feet, emerald flames erupted all around her. She kept her arms tucked close to the sides of her dark green dress as several hearths zoomed past. When the Floo Network landed on her location, she remained in the fireplace for a moment, taking in Regulus's home.

Grimmauld Place was much darker and older than the Estate. Indeed, the house itself looked its age, though the wooden floors were finely polished. Having Floo'd into the drawing room, Ivy noticed the large windows that overlooked the street in front of the house.

As fine as the home seemed, Ivy couldn't ignore the haunted imprint in the air. She hadn't believed much in Divination when she was younger, but now that she'd been in the class for a year, she'd begun to find some use in it.

"Do come in," a cold voice said.

Ivy hadn't noticed Walburga Black standing by a massive tapestry that stretched all the way up the wall. But she did obey, keeping her good Selwyn posture as she ran through all the pureblood customs in her head.

"Good evening, Lady Black," Ivy said with faux respect, coming to her side. "Thank you for inviting me over for dinner. I've been looking forward to this for some time. And I must say, you've quite an extraordinary home."

"It's only fitting that we get to know our son's future wife," Walburga smiled, though it was the same kind of dead smile that Bellatrix had.

"Of course. Feel free to ask anything you like of me. I'm at your service."

"As it should be," Walburga said proudly. "Regulus is upstairs, finishing getting ready for dinner. Why don't you join him? You can come down together. It'll be good practice for when you're married. Kreacher!"

A sickly-looking male house elf popped out of thin air. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Show our guest the way to Regulus's bedroom."

"Yes, Mistress," Kreacher began leading her into the hallway.

They made their way to a massive set of stairs, where a row of shrunken house elf heads were mounted on plaques on the wall. Ivy gasped at the sight of them, but didn't comment to Kreacher her thoughts on the matter, despite how revolted she felt.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, they walked past a door with a plaque reading: _Sirius Orion Black._ Kreacher gestured to a half-open door, this plaque reading: _Regulus Arcturus Black_.

The house elf then bid her farewell and vanished.

Left alone in the dingy hallway, Ivy knocked on Regulus's door and pushed it all the way open. His room was dimly lit but surprisingly clean for a teenage boy. The bed with its carved wooden headboard was a little messy, but other than that, the room was full of green velvet curtains and fine tapestries. She noted that the Black family crest had been painted over the bed and saw newspaper clippings about Voldemort on the opposite wall.

Those definitely surprised her, though not as much as Regulus, who was in front of his dresser without a shirt. He was lanky, but she hadn't expected there to be muscles beneath his robes. In fact, she hadn't imagined what could be beneath his robes at _all_.

"Hey, just give me a minute," Regulus said.

His words went in one ear and out the other as she recalled what Theya had said a few months ago. _Just because your sex drive hasn't kicked in yet doesn't mean it never will_.

Well, she was pretty sure hers just kicked in.

That was, until she spotted the scars on him.

Ivy stepped into the room, shutting the door behind herself despite Regulus's protests. She walked directly up to him, maybe a little closer than she needed to, to get a look at the marks on him. There weren't very many, but she still knew exactly where they had come from.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked.

"Your scars," Ivy scowled. "I knew that your parents were like mine, but seeing them is…"

"They're pretty ugly, huh?"

"No," she said automatically, the thought having never occurred to her. "Don't even think- No. You're not ugly. What your parents do is ugly, but not you. Never… you."

He was quiet, face unreadable.

"Do you want me to kill them?" She asked quietly. "I'm serious."

"No, Sirius is serious."

"Don't joke with me right now."

"Sorry," Regulus said, shifting on his feet. "You're just, um… Closer than you usually are. And I'm not entirely clothed at the moment, so…"

If she hadn't been thinking about those facts before, she definitely was now. Ivy's body was only a few inches away from his. In fact, her lips were only a few inches away as well. She was close enough that could lean right in and taste him.

 _Calm the fuck down_ , she ordered herself, before noticing a thin, medium length scar on his collarbone.

"I have the same one," she brought a finger up to touch it without really thinking. "Almost in the same place."

Regulus's breath hitched at the contact and her silver gaze met his dark one. She reached a hand up to her dress slowly, pushing the shoulder of the gown off to show him her matching scar. Ivy tugged the hem down a little further than she needed to, causing the top curve of her breast to show.

Watching his reaction carefully, she noted that his eyes dropped past the scar, before flickering back up. She felt him move closer, felt his gaze on her, making her skin hot and tingly. She also felt something hard brush against her thigh.

"Stray Instant Scalping Hex, right?" Regulus asked, sounding a little breathless.

Ivy nodded, at a loss for words herself. Her mind was just... empty. It never had been before.

He brought a hand up to touch her scar in return, fingertips feathering over it. Regulus brushed the top of her breast in a way that could've been accidental, but she found herself hoping it wasn't. In response, she felt something stir between her legs.

She couldn't help a little provocation and moved closer to him, brushing her chest against his bare one. Ivy felt that hard _something_ press more firmly against her and she was surprised to find that she liked it, knowing what he felt without him saying anything.

Regulus leaned in. Instead of kissing her, he placed one hand on the small of her back, making her tremble. He reached his other hand up to tug at the black ribbons that held her hair in a bun. Maintaining eye contact, he pulled the long, white strands loose and Ivy's breath left her.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Regulus twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

Ivy tried to keep herself steady as she analyzed him. There was a heady look in his dark eyes, which flicked to her lips, and the way his body shook ever so slightly told her that he wanted her. Wanted to devour her, dominate her, throw her onto his bed and tie her up with her black hair ribbons.

_Damn it all._

Ivy leaned in, brushing her lips against his gently. It was a restrained movement, incredibly so, for the kinds of thoughts that started rushing through her head. She was tentative and gentle, not wanting to scare him away when they'd barely even talked in months.

But Regulus didn't kiss her back gently at all.

He crushed his mouth against hers, strong arms pressing her flush against him.

She let out a needy sound she didn't even know she was capable of making, her fingers sliding up his biceps, over his shoulders, and into his hair, where she instinctively pulled. This elicited a similar sound from him and his fingers dug into her hips as his tongue begged for entrance into her mouth.

Granting him access in seconds, her tongue danced with his as she pushed her breasts up against him, wanting more, more, _more_. One of his hands thrust into her hair while the other slid down to cup her arse, deepening this need she'd never felt before, a need that demanded for her full attention.

There was a rhythmic knock at the door and then the sound of it opening.

"Reg, Walburga wants us downst- Whoa."

Ivy broke away from the kiss, her lips, heart, and somewhere else burning. Regulus's hands held firm to her waist, but his eyes glared over her shoulder. She turned to see Sirius in the doorway, clothed in black robes fancier than she'd ever seen him wear.

"Hey," Sirius had the audacity to check her out. "I see the appeal now, Reg. Selwyn in a dress _does_ look irresistible."

"Piss off!" Regulus growled, moving out of her grasp and slamming the door in his brother's face. "Don't make me _Avada_ you."

"Be down in ten or she'll break out the _really_ bad Curses," Sirius said merrily from the other side of the door.

Ivy stood silently where Regulus had left her, unsure of what to do with herself.

Her thoughts were still churning with him and his body. _Oh_ , his body.

Touching her fingers to her lips, she found it hard to think about the Black family waiting for them downstairs when she had just been snogging Regulus. And if they hadn't been interrupted, she had a feeling much more than that would've happened. She was still tempted to make it happen.

"I need to get dressed," Regulus broke the silence.

He moved past her, careful not to touch her as he went to finish putting on his robes.

"I'll just…" Ivy started, feeling dazed. "I'll wait outside. Your mother wanted us to walk down together."

She left, closing the door behind herself and pressing her back up against the wall beside Regulus's plaque as she fixed her dress. Even after taking several breaths, she didn't feel like she was getting enough air.

Ivy wasn't sure there was enough air in the world to calm her after that.

"Lucky you don't have any hickeys."

She nearly jumped out of her skin, not having realized that Sirius had chosen to linger in the hallway after bursting in on them. He was leaning against the opposite wall with an obnoxious, knowing smirk.

"Go away," Ivy snapped, the sexual frustration leaving her mind.

"Don't you worry, I'll be gone soon enough."

She eyed him. "What does that mean?"

"It means that sometime soon," he smiled happily. "I won't have to live here anymore. You and Reg will be free to continue without interruption."

The idea of that was quite nice until she realized that Regulus would be alone with his parents. There would be no one to defend him from the wrath that seemed all too common in pureblood families.

Ivy had once tried to take the brunt of the pain for Hazel, no matter how bad things got, because that's what older siblings were supposed to do. But Sirius was selfish enough to leave Regulus alone with child abusers?

She clenched her jaw as he stepped into her personal space.

"Just so you know," Sirius winked at her. "I heard you and Reg talking back at Hogsmeade. If you still want to snog me, I promise I'll make you feel _much better_ than he ever could."

Regulus came out of his room at the same moment that Ivy kneed Sirius in the groin.


	10. Dark Devotion

**September 1** **st** **, 1975**

"You know they've started calling themselves the Marauders?" Severus sneered.

Ivy laughed into her goblet of pumpkin juice and nutmeg, glad that the start of her fourth year had arrived. Mostly because she was sick of Selwyn Estate, as per usual, but partly because every summer she found herself missing mealtime in the Great Hall.

"Actually, you can credit me with that name," Theya said around her dinner. "I mentioned to Evans how they're always marauding about and she said the same thing to Potter. Apparently, he took the words to heart."

Regulus glanced down the Slytherin table and lowered his voice. "You're friends with most of the student body and the majority of them aren't worth your time. If you keep talking to them, you're going to be labelled a blood traitor."

"I'm a future politician," Theya rolled her eyes. "I get a pass."

Regulus eyes her incredulously.

"Look," Theya put down her fork. "Upholding pureblood ideals is important, no one's arguing that." Ivy felt her fondness grow as she watched Theya lie so smoothly. "But it's important to have neutral parties, or at least, parties that _seem_ neutral. When it comes to war, people like me are vital because we can sweet talk the other side or become informants."

As usual, it was hard to argue with Theya, and everyone was quiet.

"Besides," Theya said around a mouthful of food. "I could talk Potter into committing suicide if I wanted to, which is saying something considering how much he loves himself. And I wouldn't have that power if I didn't put up a front of friendliness with him."

Ariadne just frowned at her. "Talking with your mouth full is unladylike."

Theya showed her mouthful of food. "Thanks, mum."

"You have terrible table manners," Ivy laughed. "You'll have to teach me sometime, that'd really get under Avdima's skin."

"Your mother's not so bad," Severus said.

Ivy exchanged a look with Regulus and sipped her pumpkin juice.

Severus didn't know that after her birthday the year before, Avdima had made a big fuss about the Snape family not being on the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Ivy had lied and said his family was from Russia but Avdima and Rhaen remained suspicious.

Personally, Ivy didn't care about blood status anymore. Everything related to it was just about keeping up appearances, similar to how Theya played the field of pureblood society and everyone else for social advantage.

As Ariadne went on a stiff tirade of chastising Theya for being improper, Ivy tuned out of the conversation, having heard the lecture many times before.

She darted a glance over at the Gryffindor table and located Sirius. He was being a moron as usual and had something that looked like a fork stuck up his nose as he appeared to play out some bit with his friends.

Ivy became a little queasy as she thought over her plan to corner Sirius. It was a desperate move and she hated begging, but it had to be done for Regulus's sake. She wouldn't leave him alone at Grimmauld Place without at least attempting to protect him.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned to find Marlene. A glance down the Slytherin table told her that the Gryffindor was already being hit with dirty looks.

"Hey," Marlene sounded bored and annoyed. "We need to plan out our studying schedule for this year."

Playing her part, Ivy rolled her eyes and excused herself from the table, scowling as she followed Marlene from the Great Hall. She kept up the agitated demeanor until they were quite alone, a few corridors over outside the empty Transfiguration classroom.

"What was your letter about?" Marlene's bored expression vanished as she leaned against the stone wall. "You said you needed to talk at my earliest convenience, which makes you sound like you're seventy, though that's beside the point."

"Yeah," Ivy cringed. "The thing is… I kissed Regulus."

"Ew," Marlene made a face.

"It wasn't _ew_ at all and that's the problem," she said, frustrated in more way than one. "I mean, he and I have a marriage contract so unless I can find a way to get out of that before I turn of age, I'll have to spend eternity with him anyway-"

"Like I said last year," Marlene spoke assuredly. "We'll find a way to get you out of it."

"Right," she shook herself. "That whole mess aside, I kissed him. Properly. Well, if you want the truth, rather _improperly_ , which was quite fun-"

"Focus, Ivy," Marlene looked like she was holding back laughter.

"Yes. So, I snogged him. But he has clippings of the Dark Lord all over his bedroom. I knew he was a supremacist from the start, but I had dinner with his family over the summer and they mentioned that Regulus had already joined Lord Voldemort's ranks. There's no way I can trust him with anything important after hearing that."

"You definitely can't date him," Marlene nodded. "I'd say to drop him entirely but I know how you feel about that."

Secretly, Regulus joining the Dark Lord only made her want to hold onto him tighter. Firstly, because although she couldn't trust him, she knew he wasn't evil like Wilkes, Rosier, or Mulciber. Secondly, because he could be an in for her with Lord Voldemort and if she wanted to change anything, she would have to really commit.

Marlene was oblivious to her plan to become a Death Eater, as Ivy knew the Gryffindor would be pissed if she didn't end their friendship outright. Even if Ivy had her heart in the right place, she knew Marlene would draw the line at her getting a Dark Mark.

"I can't drop Regulus," Ivy said. "I just need your help on how to tell him that we can't be together. Seeing how well things went on my birthday last year, it's probably best that I get some input beforehand."

"Yeah," Marlene laughed. "You really made sure _that_ conversation went tits up."

"Don't remind me," Ivy frowned. "Anyway, what do I say?"

Marlene looked contemplative. "How do you feel about lying?"

Ivy fixed her with a look.

* * *

 **October 9** **th** **, 1975**

Ivy bounced her leg nervously as she waited in the Library, sitting at a table on her own with an untouched textbook open in front of her. It was nearing seven pm, which only gave her an hour to discuss things with Regulus when he arrived.

Spotting him as he entered the Library, she pretended to read her Divination textbook, acting like she wasn't watching him out of the corner of her eye. She only looked up when he plopped into the seat across from her.

"Hey, Iv," Regulus dropped his bookbag on the table. "What did you need to talk about?"

"Um," Ivy glanced around and spoke in a hushed whisper. "Grimmauld Place."

He nodded and drew his wand. " _Muffliato_."

"Is that a charm?" Ivy asked, looking for the effects of the spell, which she didn't see. "What did that do?"

"Oh, it's Severus's invention," Regulus explained. "It fills the ears of any person in the vicinity with a buzzing sound so your conversation isn't overheard."

"Clever, that. I'll have to remember it."

After asking Severus how he managed to create spells at the end of last year, she'd started work on a Slicing Charm, mostly to see if she _could_ create a spell. If all went well with it, she planned on creating an exceptionally lethal Curse for an exceptionally lethal cause.

"Anyway," Regulus said. "I'm glad you wanted to talk about this, I had some thoughts on the matter."

"Alright," Ivy tried not to look as nervous as she felt. "I don't think that what happened between us was a mistake or anything, but I also don't think I'm ready to be in a relationship."

She knew she could handle a romantic relationship just fine, and privately, she craved one with him. But there were multiple very good reasons that she couldn't pursue anything with him. Plus, the excuse she gave was impossible to argue against, which was why she and Marlene had chosen it.

"I actually agree," Regulus said. "I don't think either of us are ready to be in a relationship. We shouldn't rush into anything we can't fully commit to. And, anyway, we've got time."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. "You're not mad at me, then?"

"No," he smiled.

"Not even about my birthday last year?" Ivy pressed, since they hadn't discussed it even once.

"Not anymore," he said pensively. "If I'm right, that was your way of telling me you weren't ready before you knew how to say it. Besides, if I calculated correctly, I should be moving up in the Dark Lord's ranks soon. That's what I should be focusing on."

"Moving up?"

Despite Severus's spell, Regulus leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'll be getting my Dark Mark over Winter Holidays."

"You're joking," Ivy said in genuine disbelief.

"Not at all," Regulus grinned. "Jealous?"

She could hardly believe it, but she was. What had he been up to lately that would allow him a Dark Mark and why hadn't she done the same?

"Very," Ivy replied. "But you're fourteen. I didn't even know we could join so young. I thought we had to wait until we're out of Hogwarts to get a Mark."

"I'll be fifteen by the time Winter Holidays roll around," he said smugly. "As far as I understand, you only have to be fifteen. And even that, I think, can be flexible.

"Wait. Does that mean Severus…?"

"Winter Hols as well."

Ivy scowled at him, folding her arms as she pouted.

"Don't worry," Regulus smirked. "I can mentor you. Give it a year under my tutelage and you'll probably have one too."

"You'll mentor me?" She perked up at this.

"Absolutely. I'd offer it to Theya as well but she insists on being fake neutral."

"Can't say it's not clever of her," Ivy muttered, wishing she'd been born a Greengrass.

"True," Regulus blew out a long breath. "Well, unless you have anything else to get off your chest, I have three rolls of parchment due in two days for DADA."

Ivy shook her head as he pulled out study materials. She stared down at her Divination textbook without reading it as she wondered what it must be like to live as a Greengrass, where the highest expectation was to make lots of friends.

* * *

 **October 31** **st** **, 1975**

Ivy twirled around the dancefloor with Frederick Avery, a tall Slytherin fourth year with strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes. She was enjoying him as a date much more than she'd anticipated.

Her black gown –-which had been sent to her by Avdima, who purchased it for a ridiculous amount of galleons-– glittered under the light of floating jack-o-lanterns that replaced the usual candles in the Great Hall. The Hallowe'en Ball was accented with fall colors; bright oranges, dark reds, and aspen yellows. Tables had been pushed towards the walls, many of them taken by boys in fancy robes with bored looks on their faces.

Laughing as Avery spun her, Ivy was pulled back against his chest.

"You're pretty light on your feet," she said, a little high on the jovial energy of the room.

"The same goes for you," Avery smiled. "You haven't stepped on my feet once."

"It's the pure blood," Ivy lied, having recently taken it upon herself to sound like as much of an arrogant pureblood shit as she could in an effort to build her reputation as a future Death Eater. "Plus, I was in dance lessons from the moment I could walk."

"It really is a pity that you're arranged for Black," Avery sighed, sounding earnest.

"Is that so?"

"There's not many suitable women left who are age appropriate."

Ivy had a hard time biting back a retort about how no one had considered age appropriate matches for her. Instead, she forced a smile. "Do you have your eye on anyone?"

"Greengrass is quite pretty."

 _Don't you fucking dare_ , Ivy thought viciously. She knew the kind of things he and Mulciber got up to in their spare time. Namely, cornering Muggleborns in abandoned classrooms and attempting to practice the Dark Arts on them.

"I believe that she has her eye on someone already," Ivy lied apologetically. "How do you like Ariadne Zabini?"

The dark-haired witch was, unfortunately, quite a bit more suited for someone like Frederick. She was equally as uptight about blood –-and everything else, though Ivy didn't feel the need to mention that she reminded her of Walburga-– and her family was currently looking into marriage contracts for her.

"She _is_ from a good family," Avery pondered aloud. "Think you could give me an in?"

"Certainly," Ivy smiled at him as the music mellowed out, signaling the end of the song. "In fact, I could give you an in now if you'd like."

"That would be perfect," Avery grinned at her.

Taking his arm, he escorted her off the dancefloor like the prized cow she apparently was. She guided them towards Ariadne, who was sitting beside Mulciber, her date, who had dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Ariadne's brown hair was loose down her back and the dark purple gown she wore showed off her cleavage, which was still twice as large as Ivy's. Neither of them were chatting and both looked a little spurned, so she wasn't surprised when Ariadne looked relieved at the sight of her.

Ivy greeted the couple and started another conversation about the Mudblood pandemic. This had the desired effect as Ariadne, Avery, and Mulciber all jumped in at once to start slinging slurs and discriminatory statements. She stayed present for a while, slowly edging herself out of the conversation.

When she excused herself, she went over to the food table, which had delicious looking sweets stacked several feet high. Locating and nibbling on a Pumpkin Pasty, she brought a hand up to her hair to make sure it was still in place, as it was all assembled atop her head.

Ivy watched Theya and Severus out on the dancefloor with Regulus and Parkinson. As she finished her dessert, she tried not to think about how nicely Regulus filled out his dress robes, or how adorably bad of a dancer he was.

A movement behind them, at the ornate wooden doors of the Great Hall, caught her eye. She watched Sirius and his crimson dress robes slip out the door.

Alone.

Seizing her chance to have a chat with him, she hurried along the edges of the room and slipped out the exit after him.

The corridor was cold and dark, only really gaining light from a few burning torches and the moonlight coming in through the windows to her left. At the far end of the hall was Sirius, who appeared to be throwing back a bottle of alcohol. Deciding not to be sly, she walked straight over to him, heels noisy on the stone floor. He turned as she was about halfway there, the bottle having vanished.

Apparently recognizing her, he drew his wand.

"Relax," Ivy let her typical mask of indifference slide away, allowing herself to be genuine for a few moments. "I'm here in peace."

"Why?" Sirius kept his wand pointed at her.

"I need a favor."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "The last time I was so unfortunate as to see you, you kneed me in the balls. Now you want to ask me a favor?"

"That about sums it up."

"Alright," he tucked his wand into his dress robes. "I'd love to hear what you think I'd be willing to do for you."

"It's not for me, it's for Regulus. I need you not to leave Grimmauld Place."

"Huh?"

"At the dinner over the summer, you said that you weren't going to live at Grimmauld Place for much longer. I need you to keep staying there over holidays."

"Why would I do that?" He looked genuinely curious.

"Because I saw his scars," her voice broke unexpectedly.

Ivy had been planning to cry in an attempt to manipulate Sirius, but before she could force some tears out, she found herself authentically upset at the thought of Regulus's scars and who gave them to him. As honest tears burned her eyes, she found herself unusually embarrassed and hastily wiped them away.

"I don't want him to hurt," she went on. "I need you to protect him."

"I can't stay in that house," Sirius said without any of his usual joking or grandiose tones. "Believe me, what you've seen on him is nothing compared to what they do to me."

"Because you're already protecting him," Ivy said slowly, understanding as she spoke.

Sirius was silent.

"You are. You're just not willing to do it for much longer."

"He'll be fifteen soon," he sounded uncertain. "He can take care of himself. Does he know you're talking to me about this?"

"Of course not," she stepped closer to him, trying to convey the importance of her request. "I'm not asking you, Sirius. I- I'm _begging_ you. I don't usually ask, much less beg. But I am."

"I can't," Sirius stepped back. "I just can't."

" _Please_ ," Ivy felt a surge of desperation, grabbing his hand as more tears began to flow. "You know what he plans to do, you're his last line of defense. You're his older brother, it's your job to protect him. I failed to protect my sister, and that's not something you ever want to live with."

"What do you mean you failed to protect her?" Sirius slowly pulled his hand back, like he was trying to be delicate. "Your sister died of illness."

Thundering footsteps broke into the corridor behind them.

And just like that, the defenses Ivy had let down in order to ask for help shot back up, like armor around her consciousness. She forced her tears to dry, forced the indifferent mask back over her face despite knowing that she probably looked insane.

Sirius certainly seemed creeped out by the transition.

She wiped her eyes and turned in time to see Theya fly past her without a word, running from the ballroom in a whirlwind of gold hair and pink silk.

"Don't leave him alone," Ivy ordered Sirius before running after her friend.

Not wanting to draw attention, she ran quietly as she could through the corridors, cursing her heels as they slowed her down. After a while, Theya came to a stop in an empty hallway, where she leaned against the stone wall and slid to the ground.

Ivy tried to catch her breath as she slowed her sprint. She sat beside Theya and took off her heels, chucking them hatefully down the corridor, as she already felt blisters manifesting.

"What happened?" Ivy asked.

Theya let out a groan. "I kissed Severus."

"You did _what_? Ew, They, why would you do that?"

"Shut up," she pulled off her own heels with a satisfied exhale. "He's brilliant and… Merlin, is that boy sexy."

"Gross," Ivy didn't see the appeal in the slightest. "Why didn't you tell me you had a crush on him?"

"It's not a crush," Theya threw her heels in the same direction as Ivy's. "And I didn't tell you because you're judgmental. I knew you'd react this way."

"I am not judgmental!"

"Give me a break. You're as bad as Severus and he hates everyone."

"Whatever," she brushed off the fact that Theya was probably right, as usual. "If it's not a crush, then what?"

Theya gave her a pointed look.

"You're in _love_ with him? Merlin, does he know?"

"Well, I accidentally kissed him-"

"How do you accidentally kiss Severus Snape?"

"How do you accidentally let Regulus Black grope your arse?"

Ivy turned red. "That's different."

"It's not," Theya snorted. "Anyway, when I kissed him, he just got this confused look on his face, like he'd never even thought of me that way. So, I did the natural thing and ran before I could humiliate myself further."

"That's rough," Ivy rubbed her lips together uncertainly. "Um, you know that Severus is kind of…"

"Hopelessly in love with Evans? Yeah, I do. Thanks for the reminder."

"I just wanted you to have all the facts."

"You know that Regulus is hopelessly in love with _you_ , right?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Just wanted you to have all the facts."

"He's not," Ivy demanded. "He just thinks he's in love with me. It'll pass."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because no one loves me," the truth came out before she could even comprehend it.

The heavy statement hung in the air between them, nearly palpable.

"Is that what you really think?" Theya asked softly.

Ivy shrugged, not wanting to even ponder about how naturally she'd said that.

"I love you," Theya took her hand and held it. "So does Regulus. And before you fight me on it, let me make my point. Why do you think Regulus agreed so easily to end things right after snogging you senseless?"

"Because neither of us are ready."

"You're both perfectly ready, you're just thick. But remember what he said when you guys decided to be friends? He said that you two have time. He's convinced that you two will get together eventually, and so are you. That's the only reason you're alright seeing him with Parkinson all the time."

Ivy knew that she was right but didn't want to give her the pleasure of saying so. Especially when she was working so hard to bury her emotions under ten feet of ice.

"Can't believe I'm consoling you," Theya grumbled. "On your love life, when mine was the one that just got fucked."

"What're you going to do about Severus, then?" Ivy asked, thankful for the opportunity to get away from her weird situation with Regulus.

"I dunno," Theya rested her head on Ivy's shoulder. "Try not to love him."

"It's harder than you think," the words popped out before she could stop them.

"That's comforting."

* * *

 **January 1** **st** **, 1976**

Regulus had not been prepared for the Dark Mark initiation. He'd known that he would have to murder someone, but he hadn't imagined it to be the gruesome ordeal that it turned out to be. He had been equipped to cast the Killing Curse, not having expected that there would be hours of buildup to doing so.

It had begun at midnight with Regulus, Severus, and the Dark Lord's Marked Death Eaters invading the Meriweather farmland home. There was a family of six inside: the mother was a witch, the father a Muggle, and their four children were halfbloods that Regulus went to Hogwarts with.

The parents were still being tortured in the kitchen by the Lestranges, while the youngest and oldest siblings were already dead. Their bodies laid in the hallway just beyond the den, where he and Severus were with their fourth year twins, Dorian and Hecate.

Regulus had Hecate and Severus had Dorian, both of whom were writhing on the floor with various bleeding cuts and gouges on their skin. As Severus cast another Cruciatus Curse, Regulus wiped his sweaty brow and ignored the pleading coming from the kitchen that was followed by a gurgling sound.

Lord Voldemort in his terrifying, pale and skeletal form, stood in the corner, watching their every movement with red, slit-like eyes. He was cloaked in black and entirely still, indulging himself in the torture.

Regulus slammed out another vicious spell, barely noticing how cold he'd gone.

Not physically, as he was sweating from head to toe and still riding the adrenaline high. Mentally, he'd gone cold. He'd shut out the reality of what he was doing, shooting wicked blasts of light as though he was just going about his day as usual.

As he aimed a Slicing Charm of Ivy's invention at Hecate, he watched a slash carve itself straight down her torso. The girl screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes so puffy from weeping that they'd almost swollen shut.

Regulus continued to draw out each shriek and wail as Lord Voldemort had commanded, not allowing himself to think past his next action. He didn't know how he would feel when he allowed himself to feel, which he wasn't about to do until he was long gone from this farm.

 _Bleed them until you think they've had enough_ , the Dark Lord had said.

He had instinctively known that there would be no enough, that he wasn't supposed to land the Killing Curse until Hecate was begging for death. Not only that, but he didn't want to be outmatched by Severus or for the Dark Lord to think of him as anything less than ruthless.

Regulus kept on until he was shaking with exhaustion and until Hecate Meriweather was unconscious, which was thanks to a particularly excruciating Cruciatus Curse. He paused for a moment to catch his breath before pointing his wand at the girl's broken, bloody body.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" The green spell hit Hecate and she was still.

He was surprised by how little he felt after murdering his classmate. Maybe because it was easier, far easier, than the torture. Or maybe it was because he'd gone numb.

But perhaps, the emptiness was indictive of something much worse.


	11. Privacy and Secrecy

**January 5** **th** **, 1976**

Despite the frigid cold that was causing her nose to turn red, Ivy remained in the cold, arms folded as she stood to the side of the carriages. She observed the students who'd never seen death, watching them walk straight past the Thestrals and board the carriages, none the wiser.

Observing the skeletal winged horses, she felt a little kinship with the Thestrals, as it seemed to her that they were both creatures of death. She wasn't sure if they could feel frustration, but she knew if they did, it would be over not being seen; not being capable of making others see them.

"Hey, you ready?" Theya shouted from a few feet away.

Trudging through the falling snow to join her friends, she noticed the distance Severus was putting between himself and Theya, as well as the lack of distance Ariadne was putting between herself and Regulus.

"I'm cold," Ariadne simpered to Regulus. "Warm me up."

Ivy would've felt jealous, except that she'd just noticed the expression on his face. And Severus's. They were gaping up at the Thestrals with shared looks of bewilderment scrawled across their features. Not only that, but they both were abnormally pale, sweaty, and fidgety, like they were scared of something.

"What are they?" Regulus asked.

"Huh?" Ariadne frowned at him.

Ivy heaved a sigh and directed her question to her female friends. "Why don't you guys go ahead? There's something I'd like to chat with the boys about."

Ariadne shot her an annoyed look. "Why can't you just say talk about it to all of us?"

"It's private," Ivy said, words clipped.

Theya exchanged a look with Ariadne and then steered the dark-haired witch into a carriage with a few Hufflepuffs, Ariadne whispering in her ear as they departed.

She waited until they were out of earshot before beginning. "What happened? You two look dreadful. I mean it, you look like you're dying."

"Thanks," Severus said.

"I'll tell you about it later," Regulus assured her. "What are these, by the way? I've never seen them before."

"They're Thestrals," Ivy said calmly. "They've always pulled the carriages, but only those who have witnessed death can see them."

The boys exchanged a look that she didn't like and she narrowed her eyes at them.

Taking a second to thoroughly examine them, she recognized that it wasn't just that they looked ill and frightened. There was something different about _them_. She'd learned in Divination that places could be haunted, but she'd learned from life that people could be too. In the same vein, people could gain the same imprints as haunted places.

It was then that she noticed something hanging around them. Some intangible Dark energy floated off of them, like ashes fluttering away from their bodies.

When she blinked, it vanished.

"What." Ivy demanded. "Happened."

"It was the Thestrals, wasn't it?" Regulus huffed.

"No, I can feel something on you two."

"Like how you can feel hauntings?" Severus rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Exactly like that."

"Look," Regulus said, inching towards a nearby carriage. "I told you, we'll talk later."

"When?"

"You could just mind your own business," Severus drawled, getting into the carriage.

Ivy fumed despite knowing that he had a point. It wasn't her right to demand information from them, especially if it had anything to do with death. Still, she would pry the information out of them one way or another, as she just felt that it was vital. Whatever had happened to them wasn't like what had happened to her.

"We'll talk the first chance I get," Regulus gave her hand a brief squeeze. "I promise."

* * *

 **February 18** **th** **, 1976**

Ivy blew out a long breath, leaning back on the hindlegs of her chair, bored to the point of tears as she sat in History of Magic. Binns's voice had faded into background noise ages ago and she'd stopped taking thorough notes after third year. She could gladly say that it hadn't affected her grades all that much.

Glancing to her left in search of entertainment, Theya was taking a nap on Ariadne's shoulder, Ariadne looking ready to pass out as well, since her eyelids were drooping. Regulus, who sat to her right, was being studious as ever and taking notes.

Just as she began wondering whether she could jinx a Hufflepuff from across the room without getting caught, a slip of parchment slid over to her.

_Skive off Ancient Runes with me? – RAB_

Ivy dipped her glass quill in the bottle of ink and wrote back: _Sure. To do what? – IES_

Several ideas of what they could do popped into her mind, most of them dirty and sorely tempting. She did her best to push off those fantasies and not pay any mind to how frustrated it made her. Tucking the thoughts into her spank bank –-a Muggle phrase Marlene had taught her-– she tried not to think about the spanking part of the term.

His response arrived a moment later: _Talk. – RAB_

_Let's walk Ariadne to class first, she usually feels left out when we go off on our own. – IES_

_She told you that? – RAB_

_No, but I 'm smart enough to know when she's being passive aggressive. I think she has a crush on you, too, so that doesn't really help. – IES_

_Does she? – RAB_

Ivy wasn't overjoyed by the way he looked past her at Ariadne with a curious smile.

_I think so. You're still dating Vivienne, though, right?" - IES_

_Dating is such a strong word. We're not, really, but letting everyone think that keeps the boys off her back and the girls off mine. – RAB_

_What girls are on your back? Don't they know we have a marriage contract? – IES_

_Someone sounds jealous. Do you want a list of names? – RAB_

_That would be great, actually. – IES_

_I was kidding. Like I'm going to give you names. I've seen what happens to those on the other end of your wand and it's not pretty. – RAB_

_You don't really think I'd hurt someone? – IES_

_Please. You're tremendously violent. – RAB_

_The only real fight I've gotten into was with the Gryffindors last year. – IES_

_Yes, but that's because you're restraining yourself. The number of times you've offered to murder my parents, or your own for that matter, is astronomical. – RAB_

_Speaking of murder, I think I've figured out what Curse I want to make. – IES_

_Plausible deniability, remember? – RAB_

_Theya's rubbing off on you a little too much. What happened to the Regulus that watched me humiliate Potter –-and loved every second of it-– back in second year? – IES_

_I'm still here, I just have to be a little more careful nowadays. Especially if you're serious about the intent for the spell. – RAB_

_Well, I'm not just going to whip it out over family dinner. – IES_

_Fair enough. Just remember to teach it to me once it's done. – RAB_

_That's i_ _f I_ _can make it work. – IES_

_You'll make it work. – RAB_

_We'll see. – IES_

_I used your Slicing Spell over Winter Hols and it worked. – RAB_

_That's fantastic. How were you able to use magic over the Holidays, though? Underage magic is illegal and all that nonsense. – IES_

_The Ministry doesn't track individual wands, just the vicinity of magic being used. So if I cast a spell at Grimmauld Place, they wouldn't come banging down my door because they only know where it occurred, not who cast the spell. You really never wondered why you weren't expelled after blasting apart that garden? – RAB_

_Apparently not. But that's good to know. Thanks. – IES_

_No problem. – RAB_

The remainder of the class was spent playing Exploding Snap with Ariadne, as they tried to see how long they could play without waking Theya. As Ivy suspected from years of sharing a dormitory with her, Theya was quite the heavy sleeper and only awoke when her hair caught briefly on fire at the very end of class.

"You better thank Merlin I didn't go bald," Theya huffed as they left the classroom. "I'd have paid you both back with a _Calvorio_."

"We'll consider ourselves lucky," Ariadne said.

"I for one wouldn't want to be on the other end of your wand," Regulus added. "Which is why I was smart enough not to participate."

"Yeah, well, you're the voice of reason," Theya said, before separating from them to go down a different corridor. "I'm off to Muggle Studies. See you at dinner."

As she disappeared down the hall, Ivy headed in the direction of the Ancient Runes classroom with Regulus and Ariadne. She and Regulus paused at the doorway to the room.

"You're not coming?" Ariadne raised her brows.

"Nah," Regulus said. "We've got something to take care of."

"What is it?" The dark-haired witch asked. "I can help."

"That's alright," Ivy smiled. "We've got it. But thanks."

She tried not to feel bad about the disappointed and jealous look on her friend's face as she and Regulus left in search of a secluded place to talk. Fortunately, there were many options and they chose an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor that had a few desks and a small window on the far wall.

Regulus locked the door behind them and Ivy went to sit on a desk, legs dangling off the edge as she waited for him. He cast a _Muffliato_ before putting away his blackthorn wand in his robes.

Instead of joining her on the desk, he moved to lean against the wall with his arms crossed.

She narrowed her eyes at the defensive physicality. "Can I see the Mark?"

"Why?"

"I'm curious to see whether it would look good on me," Ivy said, only half-joking.

Regulus snorted before glancing at the door. He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his forearm and the Dark Mark. The skull and serpent were dark grey, slightly shimmery, and moved on his arm.

"You walk around without a Concealment Charm on it?" Ivy asked. "Seems risky."

"I haven't found a Charm that works with it," Regulus pursed his lips, rolling his sleeve back down. "Believe me, I've looked."

"Hm. Well, I'll see about making a spell to hide Marks next."

Regulus nodded as he loosened his green and silver tie as though it was obnoxiously tight. "I killed someone to get the thing without realizing how hard it was to cover up."

"So, you did have to murder someone," she had expected as much.

Regulus cleared his throat. "We also had to torture them."

Ivy was still. A surge of mixed emotions –-namely anger, panic, and a disturbing amount of sympathy-– rushed forward. She put her focus on maintaining a neutral expression, especially since he was analyzing her intently with his dark eyes.

"That's why you took so long to tell me," she said steadily. "How bad was it?"

"Bad. It went on for about four hours."

Unsure that she could mask her emotions after hearing that, she slid off the desk and went to look out the window. She folded her arms, staring hard at the gloomy sky and distant Quidditch pitch where some students were skirmishing.

"It was the Meriweather family, wasn't it?" She asked.

"Yes."

Ivy's hand fell over her chest as she tried to control her quickened heartbeat. She recalled the Daily Prophet from a few weeks ago calling the massacre "grotesque, barbaric, and sickening".

"Did you like it?" She asked softly.

Regulus was silent.

And the silence burned her.

The not knowing, but also having an inkling. Ivy could feel their friendship dangling from a thin thread that she hoped he wouldn't cut. She could understand –-not justify, but understand-– how someone could do such a thing. But she could not condone enjoying it.

"Tell me if you liked it, Regulus."

"Why do you want to know?" Regulus's voice wavered.

"Just answer the question."

When he remained quiet, Ivy whipped around in a fury, ready to shout the question in his face. But she stopped short when she saw him with a hand over his eyes, shoulders hunched and shaking.

Shocked at his reaction, especially since she'd never once seen him cry, she swallowed her fury. Ivy stayed where she was for a moment, making herself be logical before emotional. She forced herself to remain in place and check to make sure he wasn't crying crocodile tears.

Ivy knew in seconds that they were sincere tears of conflicted regret.

She hurried over to him and tugged gently on the front of his robes.

Regulus instantly fell into her, his arms wrapping around her waist and his face tucking into the crook of her neck. She held him protectively, if not possessively, one arm tight around his neck while the other slid into his silken black hair and massaged his scalp.

Ivy was distinctly familiar with this type of weeping. It was the uncontrollable, sorrowful kind that meant Regulus had just lost a part of himself that he knew he would never get back.

Regulus pulled back after a moment, enough to see her face.

"I tortured her," he wiped at his eyes, which had begun to dry. "With every curse imaginable. I didn't like it."

His hands were still on her hips and she could feel him fumbling with his fingers. Ivy slid her hands from around his neck and just slightly down his chest, before gracing up to hold his face.

"Ivy," he whispered, not meeting her eyes. "I feel like… I walked into a cage to test it out for someone else, only to find that it was for me."

She watched his face carefully, choosing her next words even more painstakingly. Ivy knew that he was sincere, but she also knew that belief in pureblood values didn't change overnight. He hadn't told her he hated the entire system, just that he hated torture.

"It's alright," Ivy said softly. "I won't tell anyone."

Tension seeped out of Regulus's shoulders and he closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. She followed suit and let herself enjoy being this close to him as she breathed in his scent of pine trees.

His regret was small in the grand scheme of things, but it sparked a little hope in her. Because, maybe, this was just the opening she needed to reveal to him the truth about pureblood society like it had been shown to her.

Despite herself, she smiled.

* * *

 **April 18** **th** **, 1976**

Regulus was startled awake by Walburga screaming. He released a deeply irritated sigh and was disgruntled to notice that her shrieking was closer than usual. Instead of coming from downstairs somewhere, it was coming from Sirius's room.

He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, knowing that there was no way he was going to get anymore rest. Getting up to see what the commotion was about this time, he threw on a long-sleeved shirt and went to his door, opening it just a crack.

There wasn't much to see as neither his brother nor mother were in the hallway.

"You heard me!" Sirius yelled. "I fucked a Muggleborn!"

Regulus let out a long groan and shut the door, leaning his forehead against it. He hoped to Merlin that he wouldn't be dragged into another argument where his brother called him names while his mother denied every word it. He'd been stuck in the middle of one of those the day before and he was fairly certain his ears were still ringing.

"You fornicated with filth?" Walburga hollered. "I ought to blast you off the tapestry right now! Why can't you just be obedient like your brother?"

His lip curled at Walburga calling him obedient.

"He only fucks pureblood bitches," Sirius shouted back. "That's for sure!"

Regulus groaned again, unsure whether Sirius knew that about his first time with Vivienne a few days ago or if he was just being a dick as usual. The latter seemed more likely.

There was a crash in Sirius's room and Regulus opened his door again to see his mother storm down the hallway in a cold fury, wand going back into her robes. When she was out of sight, he walked over to Sirius's room.

"What the fuck is going on?" Regulus arrived in the doorway with a scowl.

He was disgusted upon taking in Sirius's Muggle posters and Gryffindor hangings. The photographs of Sirius with his friends especially irked him and even prompted envy to crawl unpleasantly in his chest. Not jealousy, but angry, hurt _envy_.

"Walburga's a cunt," Sirius snapped from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

Regulus raised a brow at the blood spurting from his brother's nose, taking a wild guess that Walburga had broken it and given him the gash on his forehead. Sirius tilted his head back to stop the blood flow.

"Maybe just don't have sex with Mudbloods," Regulus suggested.

"Watch your _fucking_ mouth."

"I'm not the one who needs to watch their mouth," Regulus drawled. "If the Dark Lord catches wind of the Black heir having sex with Mudbloods, you'll have a much worse problem on your hands than Walburga."

Sirius glared at him, before his grey gaze dropped to Regulus's left forearm.

Instinctively, he moved his arm behind his back, knowing as he did so that it was such a _stupid_ move.

"You didn't," Sirius's eyes flashed. "Tell me you're not that stupid."

"Lot smarter than you," Regulus folded his arms. "But you'll get what's coming to you. So will your _friends_. Voldemort will make sure of it if I don't first."

"I fucking hate you!" Sirius snarled, rushing at him.

He grabbed Regulus by the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against the hallway wall. Before he could shove him away, Sirius clocked him.

Pain splintered in his jaw as he fell to the ground, slightly stunned. While he goaded his brother often and had plenty of arguments with him, they hadn't gotten physical with each other in years. He clutched his jaw on the floor as Sirius emerged from his bedroom, trunk in tow.

"You're dead to me," Sirius spat, throwing some slip of paper at Regulus's face.

He then stormed down the hall in a very similar cold fury to Walburga's, vanishing around the corner without another word.

Regulus sat up, staring after his brother as he tried to ignore the fact that the hurt in his chest was far worse than that in his jaw. He listened to Walburga scream downstairs, then felt the walls shake. The front door slammed shut and he just knew that Sirius had been blasted off the tapestry.

Not only was Sirius gone for good, but he had chosen his friends over Regulus with more finality than he ever had.

The house was silent after that, and as he regained himself, he looked around for what Sirius had thrown at him. He located a picture of when he was younger that showed Sirius giving him a piggyback ride around the drawing room.

The photograph was torn in half.

* * *

 **April 20** **th** **, 1976**

Regulus had been in a vile mood since Sirius left. This was evident in the way he arrived in Ivy, Theya, and Ariadne's compartment on the way back to Hogwarts with a black eye. It was probably well deserved since he'd hexed Potter upon seeing him, which prompted Sirius to brawl him again.

He ignored the girls' gasps at his injury as he stowed away his luggage.

"Where's Severus?" Regulus asked.

Ivy and Theya exchanged a look.

"He's sitting with Rosier and Wilkes today," Ariadne said.

"Thanks," Regulus was surlier than usual as he went to the door.

"Wait," Ivy moved to block his way out. "At least tell us what happened before you go running off."

Regulus scowled at her. "Have you ever noticed my brother's initials?"

"Um, no?" Theya chimed in.

"They're SOB. It's almost like my parents inherently knew."

"What happened?" Ivy pressed.

"Sirius moved in with the Potters," he said bitterly.

"He did what?" Ivy's face went lethally cold.

"Not before he decked me, though," he opened the door, relieved when no one tried to stop him this time. "Fucked my jaw up real nice. I'll be with Severus."

Regulus left and made it a few compartments over before a hand caught onto his arm. Expecting Ivy, he turned around to tell her to bugger off. Instead, he was faced with Theya, who he thought was decidedly the better option.

"What?" He snapped, pressing himself against the wall to let students pass him.

"First off," moved over as well, narrowing her hazel eyes. "Don't get pissy with me because you're in a bad mood. Second, I'm going to keep an eye on Ivy, but I hope you're planning to as well."

"Why do I need to do that?"

She gave him a look.

"Right," he actually found himself trying not to smile. "Because she's vindictive and violent. Personally, I think it'd be a good thing if she found a way to get revenge on him. I don't see what the problem is."

"Ivy was wearing her murder face when I came after you," Theya said worriedly. "In fact, I probably shouldn't have left her with Ariadne."

He knew exactly the look she was talking about. Ivy was already abrasive and downright terrifying at times, but her murder face was fucking harrowing. It was a rare sight that only occurred when she was seriously considering killing someone. Of course, she hadn't killed anyone yet, but that was just the concern. She hadn't killed anyone _yet_.

" _Ew_ , Regulus, what the fuck?" Theya hissed, jumping back from him.

He looked down to find that he had a hard-on.

"Shit," he quickly turned to face the wall and make an adjustment. "Sorry, They, I promise it's not about you."

"Ivy's murder face?" Like the good friend she was, Theya blocked him from view and kept watch for other students despite sounding disgusted. "Sometimes I think the two of you are seriously sick in the head."

"You're probably right about that," he finished his adjustment and faced her again.

"What did you do?" Theya made eye contact like she was distinctly trying not to look down.

"Don't ask and I won't have to tell."

"Ugh," Theya wrinkled her nose.

Sudden shouting started down the train.

He shared a look with Theya and peered over her shoulder.

About halfway down the train, he saw Ivy standing in the doorway of a compartment. Her hair was tied up by black ribbons in its usual bun, but her fists were clenched and her stance was aggressive.

Trying not to think about the fact that he was turned on again, he and Theya hurried over.

Regulus arrived to see that Ivy was indeed wearing her murder face, which consisted of dangerously narrowed silver eyes and a face so wrenched in anger that most anyone would cower in her presence. She was standing in the open doorway of a compartment containing the Marauders, who were all shouting. Sirius was curled up on the floor and bleeding from the nose, making Regulus notice that Ivy's knuckles were bruised.

"I told you not to leave him," Ivy seethed, apparently still in the middle of her rampage. "You _selfish_ motherfucker. You know exactly what goes on in Grimmauld Place and you abandoned him there. I asked you – _begged_ you – to protect him!"

He felt the glee drain right out of him. "You did _what?"_

Feeling like he'd been socked in the gut, he realized how little Ivy thought of him.

She thought that he couldn't take care of himself when he was a practically a grown man and had apparently begged his older brother to protect him. Not only that, but the girl he was in love with had just broadcasted those opinions to Regulus's enemies and whatever students were listening in the hallway.

Ivy turned to him with wide, horrified eyes. "Regulus, you-"

"Weren't supposed to hear that?" He asked coldly.

When she reached out for him, he moved roughly out of her grasp. Ignoring his gaping classmates that had assembled at hearing the racket, he shouldered through the crowd in hopes of escaping his humiliation.

Unfortunately, it chased him down the corridor and made a nest in his gut.

* * *

 **June 19** **th** **, 1976**

Ivy stared down at her breakfast plate, which had a mountain of bacon on it, trying not to look as sullen as she felt. Stealing a glance down the Slytherin table, she tried not to stare at Regulus, who had taken to having his meals away from her. He was accompanied by Severus and Avery, not paying her any mind.

"You need to stop moping," Theya commented around her mouthful of eggs. "You're going to get frown lines."

"It's been months," Ivy said sulkily. "He hasn't talked to me in _months_. He's never been this mad at me, not even after my birthday last year."

"I'd be pissed too," Ariadne said. "If you called me weak in front of an eighth of the school."

"I didn't say he was weak! There's nothing wrong with protecting those you love."

"That's true," Ariadne pressed her lips together. "But you can't protect blokes in public. They get all threatened and proud. Besides, I wouldn't want my personal business aired out either."

"I know," Ivy groaned. "I've tried apologizing but anytime I manage to corner him he finds a way out."

"Maybe start by not cornering him," They suggested. "Let him come to you."

Ivy let out a whiny, impatient noise and pushed away her plate, deciding that it was probably time to open the letter Avdima had sent her. Seeing as her parents _never_ wrote her, she expected that the letter was going to absolutely ruin her week.

She read about half of it before setting it down, a happy glow washing over her.

Her father had fallen ill and appeared to be dying of dragon pox.

It was the best news she'd had in years.

"What're you grinning about?" Theya looked over her shoulder at the letter.

"Nothing," Ivy quickly folded it and stuffed it in her pocket. "I just realized that you were right. It's a wonderful day, the sun is shining, and I just might take a stroll around the Black Lake, get some of that lovely fresh air."

"Did someone put another Cheering Charm on you?" Ariadne glared around for the culprit. "I get why it's funny, but they've got to stop."

"No," she tugged her plate of bacon forward and began devouring it. "I'm just happy."

"You're never 'just happy'," Theya frowned skeptically. "You're grinning ear to ear and I've never once seen you do that."

Ivy let out a lighthearted laugh.

"Stop it," Ariadne frowned. "You're really creeping me out."

"I can't help it," Ivy grinned, noticing an emerald-eyed witch nearing them. "Heads up, They, we've got a redheaded Prefect coming our way."

Theya stiffened, her posture going so rigid that she looked like she had something stuck up her arse. Ivy eyed her, wondering if that's what _she_ looked like with her perfect pureblood posture.

"Hey," Evans arrived, smiling brightly at Theya. "Have you seen Mary MacDonald? We were supposed to meet at the Library earlier but I can't find her. You know everyone's whereabouts best, so I thought I'd ask."

"No," Theya said icily. "I haven't."

"That's odd. If you see her, would you mention I'm looking for her?

"Sure," Theya stood abruptly. "I've got to run. See you later, Evans."

As the golden-haired watched hurried away without so much as a glance over her shoulder, the redheaded Gryffindor remained where she was, looking stunned.

"She always calls me Lily," Evans muttered before turning to Ivy and Ariadne. "Did I do something? She's been avoiding me for months."

Ariadne flat out ignored her.

Ivy felt a twinge of annoyance, not wanting to have this conversation. "Severus."

"Huh?"

"You know. Black hair. Likes Potions a little too much. Chases after you like a lapdog."

Evans glared at her. "What about Severus?"

"You really don't know?"

"About what?"

Ivy eyed her. "For someone so clever, you're awfully stupid."

"I'm really not in the mood for this," Evans made a move to leave.

"Wait," Ivy grabbed her arm, feeling more generous than usual. "Severus has a crush on you, idiot. More than a crush on you."

"No, he doesn't," her face turned as red as her hair.

"Literally, everyone knows except the two of you. If you don't love him back, stop leading him on already. Now, unless you need me to explain any other obvious and simple things, do go away. I'm having a fantastic day and you're putting a damper on my mood."

"I told Marlene to stop putting Cheering Charms on you," Evans shook her head before walking in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Ivy made eye contact with Marlene, who had been observing their interaction, and mouthed: _Run_. The blonde practically jumped out of her seat and began hurrying out of the Great Hall. Evans followed close behind, looking ready to scold.

* * *

Ivy was on her way back to the Slytherin dormitory, practically skipping in joy from the news about her father, when she passed a closed door and heard what sounded like a yell come from behind it.

Trying for the handle, she found it locked.

Pressing her ear against the door, she tried to figure out whether it was worth her time to check things out, or whether it was another couple having a quick shag. Hearing a whimper that didn't sound like one of pleasure, she pulled out her wand.

" _Alohomora_ ," she whispered, cracking the door open to peek inside.

Instead of the naked couple she'd still somehow expected to see, Ivy beheld something far worse.

The room looked like most of the abandoned classrooms she'd seen; windowless with dusting tables and chairs. Except that in the center of this one was a long desk, on which laid a Gryffindor girl whose robes were torn in several different places. She was gagged, bleeding from the head and crying, her dark hair falling over the edge of the desk.

Standing over her was Mulciber, who had a sickening, greedy expression on his face as he pointed his wand at her and said: " _Crucio_."

Ivy darted into the classroom, slamming the door shut behind herself. Mulciber's blue eyes shot to her and he had just opened his mouth when he apparently recognized her.

"Oh, hey, Selwyn," he said casually.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She hissed at him, completely ignoring Mary MacDonald as she whimpered for help.

"She's a Mudblood," Mulciber said simply.

"I get that," Ivy rolled her eyes. "But you can't just torture people in the castle, much less use _Unforgivables_ on them when Dumbledore is just a few floors away."

"I do it all the time," he shrugged as MacDonald let out an agonized sound. He stuck the tip of his wand into her neck. "Shut the fuck up."

"Adrian," Ivy growled. "You're not being careful. All I had to do was _Alohomora_ that lock to get in. If it had been anyone else, you'd be expelled and probably on your way to Azkaban. You're going to get caught doing shit like this."

"But-"

"No," Ivy snapped as she rubbed her eyes. "Look, you get out of here and I'll take care of it, alright? I'll see if I can manage some Obliviation."

She did everything in her power not to look at MacDonald, mostly to prove that she didn't care about the Muggleborn, who was still crying softly.

"You can cast a Memory Charm?" Mulciber cocked his head at her.

"Better than you can," Ivy forced a smirk. "You've heard that I'm top of our class in Charms by now, right?"

"Yeah, actually," Mulciber looked at MacDonald with a sadistic longing. "I was having so much fun… You're sure you can Obliviate her properly?"

"I'll do my best," Ivy said. "It's a pretty advanced Charm so I can't guarantee anything, but a chance at Obliviation is a better solution than just letting her go free."

"Alright," Mulciber looked disappointed but tucked away his wand. "Fine."

Ivy watched him head for the door and held her passive face as he left. Once he was gone, she cast her own Locking Spell on the door, as well as a _Muffliato_. Only once she tested the spells did she drop her emotionless pretense and hurry to MacDonald.

The girl was sobbing and tried to scream around her gag as Ivy neared her.

"Don't worry," she said hurriedly. "No Obliviation for you – I'm just going to get rid of this Full Body-Bind Curse. Hold tight, alright? _Reparifors!_ "

MacDonald instantly started sitting up, though her arms were shaking with the effort. Ivy reached for the gag and the dark-haired witch flinched back.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly and sincerely. "I'm just taking off the gag."

"Don't touch me," MacDonald said around the gag.

Ivy held her hands up, before remembering she had her wand in her hand still. She slowly reached over to MacDonald to place the hazel wood on the desk beside where she sat. Backing away, she kept her hands in the air to prove she wasn't trying to hurt her.

The suspicion started to die in MacDonald's eyes as she yanked off the gag and cradled her left arm against her chest with a wince. She snatched up Ivy's wand with her other hand, holding it up defensively.

"You can leave if you want," Ivy said. "But I doubt you'd make it to the Hospital Wing on your own without collapsing in the corridor. Let me check your wounds."

"If you find my wand and hand it over," she said frostily. "Then we'll see."

"Done."

Ivy began her search, watching MacDonald sway in her seat from the corner of her eye. She located the wand in a cluster of spiderwebs beneath a dusty chair in the corner and handed it back to its rightful owner.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " MacDonald flicked her wand with her good arm and a silvery rabbit burst forth. "Lily, I'm in the basement. Mulciber used Dark Magic on me. Selwyn's here but she's not a threat. Knock three times once you find us."

As the rabbit jumped through the ceiling and vanished, MacDonald handed Ivy her wand back.

"What was that?" Ivy asked.

"A Patronus message. Lily Evans invented it."

"Oh. Can I check your wounds now?"

"Go ahead," MacDonald said wearily.

Ivy examined the Gryffindor, casting a _Tergeo_ to clean the wound on her head. It was deep, though thankfully, not as deep as the cuts on her abdomen. Not bothering to hide her disgust with Mulciber, she used her Slicing Charm on the hem of her robes to carve off a long piece of fabric.

She was just wrapping it around MacDonald's head when three knocks came at the door.

" _Alohomora_ ," Ivy flicked her wand at the door, but otherwise continued her work on binding MacDonald's head.

"Don't hex her," MacDonald said, looking over Ivy's shoulder. "She found me."

She guessed that there was a wand aimed at her back but paid no mind, finishing the tie at the back of the Muggleborn's head. Once the fabric was securely fastened, she turned to face the redhead.

"Okay," Evans said, having lowered her wand. "Help me get her to the Hospital Wing. Those cuts on her stomach look nasty."

"No," Ivy said. "I can't be seen with you two."

"And why is that?" Evans curled her lip in disgust. "Hoping to cover for Mulciber?"

"Fuck Mulciber," Ivy snapped, earning shocked looks from both of them. "Fuck half my House, for that matter. And fuck half of yours too, while I'm damning people. I'd rather not deal with all the questions about why I'm helping a Muggleborn – two Muggleborns. In fact, neither of you can tell anyone I was here."

"Why don't you want anyone to see the good in you?" Evans said slowly.

"Sometimes I hate how smart you are," she drawled, headed for the door. "Just forget I was here. Put a Hover Charm on MacDonald and go."

Ivy slipped out of the room and slunk away, hoping they could keep their mouths shut.


	12. Not Everyone Else

**August 21** **st** **, 1976**

Ivy sat in the front row of her father's funeral, forcing herself to cry.

Selwyn Estate's massive ballroom was full of black flowers, the white marble floor polished and shining beneath her feet. Behind her and to her left sat several rows of ornate wooden chairs in which sat her friends –-sans Regulus-– and quite a few purebloods. Some were from important families or the Ministry, while others were Death Eaters, namely the ones she'd recently met at the Dark Lord's gatherings, which she'd started attending with frequency a few weeks ago.

Eyes unfocused, she stared at Rodolphus Lestrange, who was giving a speech about her father behind a podium five feet away. Not paying much attention to what he was saying, Ivy was a little preoccupied with procuring tears to look as though she was missing her father.

Not that it was hard, since she _was_ in mourning. Though, she wasn't mourning Rhaen; she was mourning her childhood, as this was the one chance she would get to openly mourn anything until she took care of her mother – a plan which was coming together nicely, though slowly.

Avdima grabbed her hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

Getting out of her chair, Ivy smoothed down her black mourning robes and slowly moved to replace Rodolphus behind the podium. Pulling a neatly folded slip of parchment from her pocket, she flattened it on the podium.

Writing the short eulogy had been easy, as she'd first written her true thoughts, which were crossed out, before taking the same sentence and reworking it into fanciful fiction.

"For those I haven't had a chance to say hello to, I'm Ivy, Rhaen's daughter."

She glanced up at the rows of watching eyes. The seat next to Walburga, which was saved for Regulus, was still vacant. Unexpected tears of hurt began to well up and she made eye contact with Theya, who shook her head sadly.

"I loved my father; he was great wizard," she continued, eying the truth on the parchment.

~~_I hated my father; he was wicked and cruel._ ~~

"I miss him every second he's gone."

~~_I'm glad he's dead. I only wish I'd killed him myself._ ~~

"My father was always so caring, especially after my sister died."

~~_He abused his children and had his 11-year-old daughter murdered._ ~~

"Because of him, I know how to be a proper, respectable pureblood."

~~_Because of him, I have a festering pit of hate in my chest that I will never get rid of._ ~~

"My life is dim without him. All I can hope for is to live up to his legacy."

~~_I'm so much happier without him. All I can hope for is to be rid of Avdima, too. The cunt._ ~~

"He was the best father in the world. I will never forget him."

~~_He hated me and hurt me. I want to forget him._ ~~

"Thank you all for being here."

~~_I don't give two shits about being here._ ~~

"I know my father would have loved this."

~~_My father didn't feel love._ ~~

* * *

Having said goodbye to the last of the funeral guests, Ivy led her friends onto the Estate grounds, tossing a bottle of Elderflower wine between her hands. The sun had already gone down, though the summer breeze was silk on her skin as she guided them between the neatly trimmed hedges and past the main water feature.

"Merlin's pants, how many fountains do you have?" Theya asked.

"I've counted two so far," Severus said.

"Seems a little excessive," Ariadne piped up.

"My parents are –-were-– are?" Ivy shook her head. "Nothing if not excessive."

Arriving at the stone archway, she kissed the pad of her finger and placed it against the rock before opening the newly installed wooden door. Since destroying her and Hazel's hideaway, she'd enlisted Minsty to clear away the rubble and expand the area a little, as Minsty was the only house elf that was more loyal to her than her parents.

The hideaway was beneath a newly planted but tall weeping willow that had the repaired swing hanging from a branch. Ivy waved her wand and bluebell flames flickered to life in glass jars that hung from various branches. There was also a small firepit around which sat a sofa and matching chairs, the wicker of which was wound with growing flora. In a corner stood a record player and Moly flowers bloomed in the surrounding grass.

Ivy flicked her wand and the record began with a warm melody.

"Your parents let you build this?" Theya asked in disbelief as she gathered everyone's bottles of alcohol and set them atop the patchwork of stones that had been set into the ground.

"Of course not," Ivy said. "They – my mother knows nothing about this place and I'm planning to keep it that way."

"I'd do the same."

At the sound of a new voice, Ivy looked back at the door to the sanctuary, finding Regulus standing there with a bashful look on his face. His black hair, which was long enough to fall to his chin, had been neatly combed, and he wore the same black mourning robes as the rest of them, an apology in his brown eyes.

Theya walked up to him and slapped him straight across the face.

Ivy started, sharing a look of bewilderment with Severus and Ariadne.

Theya pointed a finger in his face. "I don't care how mad you are or how wounded your ego is. If there's a death, you show up for the fucking funeral."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Regulus said, despite looking guilty.

"I don't give a shit," Theya told him blandly. "Sometimes you put aside your feelings to be a loyal friend. You owe her an apology."

"I-"

"Apologize," she demanded. "Or I'll tell her what you think of her murder face."

"I was going to anyway," Regulus looked annoyed and embarrassed. "And _don't you dare_."

"Good," Theya nodded briskly before going to sit with Severus and Ariadne.

Regulus gave a jerk of his head towards the door and Ivy followed him out of the secret garden, closing the door most of the way.

Now alone with him amongst the night sky and the hedges, she folded her arms.

* * *

Regulus was quiet, taking in Ivy's puffy eyes and only semi-angry stance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black box. With a tentative step forward, he opened it, showing her a decorative hairpiece that glittered under the moonlight. It was made up of silver, sapphires, and obsidian.

"Is that a Thestral?" Ivy brushed her fingertips over the gems. "Why a Thestral?"

"That's your Patronus, isn't it?"

"How did you know that?" She gawked at him.

"Because I know you," he said softly, hiding his smugness over guessing correctly. "May I?"

She nodded and turned her back to him.

Regulus placed the hairpiece above her bun, where it mingled with the black ribbons. He took his time, savoring the nearness that he rarely got to have with her, though it was difficult to resist pulling the ribbons out of her hair the way he had a year ago in his bedroom.

"This is my apology," he said as she turned back around. "If I'm being quite honest, I didn't think you would need me here since you hated your father. I realized after that I still should have come. And you're more upset than I thought you'd be."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your eyes are still a little puffy."

The sound of laughter and clinking bottles came from the other side of the half-cracked door.

"I don't care about Rhaen," she pushed the door all the way shut. "I care about the childhood I didn't have."

"You're mourning the lost years," Regulus said slowly. "Because you know they could have been better."

"Yes," Ivy reached up to touch the hairpiece with a little smirk. "You just had a Thestral hairpin lying around, huh?"

"No," Regulus puffed his chest out a little. "I had it specially made about a year ago."

Regulus had spent a fortune on the thing after snogging her in his bedroom and only after having it made did he realize that he was in love with her. Around the same time, he'd discerned that she wasn't ready to love him.

When a boisterous laugh came from behind the hideaway door, she smiled at him. "We should probably get back."

She made a move to go, but Regulus pulled her back gently by the arm.

"Hold on," he said evenly. "I apologized, but now it's your turn."

"Right," Ivy said. "I shouldn't have handled things on the train the way I did. I don't regret punching your brother, but I shouldn't have shouted your business to the whole train."

"Try again."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he folded his arms. "I want an _actual_ apology from you, an actual 'I'm sorry'. None of that half-assed rubbish you give everyone else. I'm not everyone else."

"I don't apologize."

"Fine," Regulus shrugged. "I'll just go ask Theya for the details of that dream you had about me and Sirius in second year."

"You can't adopt Theya's blackmail tactics," she groaned. "I can't handle two of you. Also, I might kill her for telling you about that."

"Ariadne told me, actually. But that's not the point. I need an apology this time and I'm not going to back down on it."

Ivy glared at him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He tried not to crack a smile.

"I'm sorry for the way I handled things on the train."

"And?"

"And what?"

"For asking Sirius to protect me," Regulus prompted her. "Merlin, you really have no idea how to make an apology, do you?"

"Shut up," she sighed. "I'm not sorry about that."

"Why not?" He felt his temper flare.

"Because," Ivy leveled him with a defiant look. "I won't apologize for wanting you to be safe; I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and everyone else I love. If that embarrasses you, then I suggest you get over it."

"I don't need you to beg Sirius to protect me, alright? It's emasculating."

"Letting a girl protect you?"

"No! I just want you to think-" He cut himself short, letting out a frustrated groan.

"You want me to think that you're made of steel?" She asked sarcastically. "That you're the biggest, toughest person to ever walk the earth?"

"Please," he ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. "You're the toughest person I know – and the most fucking frustrating, too, by the way. Emasculating was the wrong word. Patronizing is what I should've said. I just want you to see me as your equal – and I don't need _or_ want Sirius to defend me."

"Fucking hell," Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's what this is about?" She stepped closer and took his face in her hands. "Of course, we're equals, Regulus. What it comes down to is that I can't stand the thought of you being abused by your parents all on your own. Maybe it's fucked up, but I'd rather you go through it with someone because I…"

Regulus felt his annoyance lessen just a bit.

"I go through it alone," Ivy dropped her hands from his face. "And I wanted to protect you in a way that I couldn't protect Hazel."

He squinted at her, once again noting the cryptic way she talked about her little sister. It always seemed like she was holding something back about Hazel and he had a vague idea of what it was. Regulus then made the reckless decision to voice the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind for years.

"How did she really die?"

Ivy's lips parted and she backed away from him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," Regulus said in a low tone with a glance at the close door. "You saw her die, which is why you can see the Thestrals. She died in the cellar, which, if she died from an illness that had her bedridden for months like you say, there's no reason she'd be down there. And you always talk like you could've done something about her death. You might have everyone else fooled, but like I said, I'm not everyone else."

She was as silent and frighteningly still as winter, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"You're not everyone else," Ivy finally said. "But I don't want to talk about what happened and I need you to respect that."

Regulus knew what he was going to say, but he hesitated. Because the Ivy in front of him was loose in the shoulders and watching him with those sharp silver eyes, for once more worried about his response than crafting her own.

This was the raw, open Ivy he rarely got to glimpse.

"I'll respect that," Regulus said. "You don't have to tell me anything."

And just like that, Ivy's posture was back and her face snapped to neutral. He could see her in those depths of silver, retreating behind her barriers and closing him out again.

He just hoped that one day she would let him in fully instead of sparsely.

* * *

"At least one of us needs to get onto the Quidditch team this year," Theya said from the loveseat, handing her bottle of Firewhisky to Severus in his wicker chair. "We've been trying out since second year, it's starting to get embarrassing."

"That's because you're all rubbish," Ariadne smirked, Theya's feet in her lap and a bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy in her hand. "At least I knew when to quit."

"Regulus and I are perfectly adequate," Ivy retorted, having taken a seat on the stone ground beside the warm fire pit. "It's Theya and Severus who should quit."

"Piss off," Severus shot her a half-hearted glare, taking a long drink from the Firewhisky.

"She has a point," Theya snorted. "Neither of us are very good. Besides, she and Regulus _are_ adequate. Not good, just adequate."

"We just need more practice," Regulus said from the other wicker chair, where he was slumped down.

His long, thin legs were spread and, thanks to her Elderflower wine, Ivy was finding it hard to not think about what she could do between them. Not that she had any experience, anyway.

She made a mental note to get some upon returning to Hogwarts, especially since taking care of things herself usually led to thinking about Regulus.

Ivy watched a little too closely as Regulus took another swig of his Daisyroot Draught. His tongue flicked out to catch a droplet of alcohol from his upper lip and her mind buzzed with ideas of his tongue massaging hers or gliding between her breasts.

"What do you think, Ivy?" Ariadne asked.

She looked sharply at her friend, feeling her face turn red. "What?"

"Do you want to play two truths and a lie?" Theya asked.

"Isn't that a-" Ivy started.

"Muggle game?" Ariadne frowned. "That's what I said."

"Relax," Theya rolled her eyes. "The filthy Muggles aren't going to taint your blood with a little game. Besides, it's actually quite fun."

Regulus and Severus exchanged a wary look, though they murmured their assent along with Ivy, who was rather curious.

"I don't approve," Ariadne said with pursed lips. "I'm sitting it out."

"Whatever," Theya said, not seeming that bothered as she proceeded to explain the game. "Everyone understand? Great. I'll go first, Regulus, you're the guesser." She paused for a moment to think. "Alright. My first time was with a Hufflepuff, I know three languages, and last week, I met Celestina Warbeck."

"Hmm," Regulus squinted at her. "I'm going to guess that the lie is knowing three languages."

"That's right!"

"Cheers," Regulus took another drink of his Daisyroot Draught and slowly sat up in his chair. "By the way, a Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah," Theya wrinkled her nose. "Edgar Bones."

"Rough," Regulus said. "Ivy, you're up. I'm allergic to strawberries. Sirius was born with a third nipple-"

Severus let out a loud laugh into his Firewhiskey and Ariadne snickered.

"-And I'm a fantastic cook."

"There's no way Sirius was born with a third nipple," Ivy said immediately.

Regulus just grinned at her.

Everyone erupted into sounds of disgust and Regulus burst into laughter.

"How-" Ivy stuttered, face scrunched. "Why- how?"

"All the inbreeding," he cringed. "They removed it, of course, but he's got a little scar on his chest that he tells people is from falling off a broom."

As the others laughed, Ivy eyed Regulus.

"Jeeze, Iv, there's nothing wrong with _me_ ," he shifted in his seat.

She nearly told him to prove it before lifting her bottle to eye level. "What the fuck is in this stuff? It's making me all… frisky."

"Frisky?" Regulus raised a brow at her with a flirty grin.

"Get a room," Theya giggled.

Ariadne quietly took another sip of her Brandy.

Ivy glared at Theya, feeling her face warm further.

"Relax," Theya rolled her eyes. "Alcohol does that to everyone."

They all bobbed their heads in agreement, though Severus did it while staring at Theya, who proceeded to subtly straighten her back and pull her gold-brown ponytail over her shoulder.

"My turn," Ivy tried not to laugh. "Severus, you're the guesser this time. I used to have a crush on Flitwick, I own five of the same bathrobe, and I had a plan to runaway when I was younger."

"Flitwick?" Severus guessed.

Ivy pouted.

"You didn't even try," Severus rolled his eyes and took another drink from the Firewhisky bottle. "Theya, I'll give you a hard one to show how it's _supposed_ to be done."

"I'm ready," Theya nodded, looking as though she was taking it rather seriously.

"I can brew Veritaserum, Lupin's a werewolf, and…" Severus cocked his head at Theya. "I haven't stopped thinking about when you kissed me last year."

Ivy sucked in a breath, wanting to look for Ariadne and Regulus's reactions, but she couldn't tear her eyes from what could very well become one of the worst things she'd ever seen. Asking for details on Lupin being a werewolf would have to wait.

"If the first one's a lie," Theya's face was unreadable. "I'd be surprised. The second one could go either way. But if you're lying about the third, I'll say it right now: fuck you."

"I can't brew Veritaserum."

"Hm," Theya narrowed her eyes at him.

"Thoughts on that?" Severus asked.

Severus and Theya maintained intense eye contact that made Ivy a little uncomfortable, but also unnervingly intrigued.

"The fact that you can't brew Veritaserum, or the third thing?" Theya asked.

"The third thing," Severus replied.

"If you can't stop thinking about it," she confidently flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. "I can make it happen again."

"Is that so."

"Yeah."

"I dare you," Severus leaned forward.

"You think I won't?" Theya shot back.

"Prove me wrong."

"Fine."

Everyone watched silently as the golden-haired witch stood up. She didn't look at anyone as she went over to Severus and placed her hands on either arm of his chair, leaning down and staring straight into his eyes.

The two started whispering and Ivy suddenly didn't want to watch anymore.

"So, um," Regulus cleared his throat. "I guess the game's over."

"Yes, ah…" Ivy's face was red. "Why don't we just… Drink some more?"

"Please," Regulus began chugging his Daisyroot Draught.

Ivy followed suit, downing her Elderflower wine with a glance at Severus and Theya.

When she noticed that Theya had begun straddling Severus's lap with his hands on her arse as they passionately snogged, Ivy choked on her drink.

Recovering quickly, she looked at Ariadne eagerly.

Ever the prude, Ariadne had a horrified look on her face and had turned so far in her chair that she was practically facing in the other direction. She was also chugging her bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy, looking determined to forget what was happening, either by ignorance or alcohol.

* * *

Ivy was shaken awake in one of the wicker chairs, feeling a hand on her shoulder. The warm melody from the record player reached her ears and she opened her eyes blurrily to see that the sky was still dark and Regulus was leaning over her. He looked more sober than a few hours prior when he'd been taking shots of Firewhisky, jumping over the firepit, and yelling into the night.

She remembered thinking that he was more like Sirius than he knew.

"What?" Ivy whined quietly.

"Come dance with me," Regulus cracked a smile.

"I'm sleeping," she murmured. "You tosser."

"Come on, please."

"Ugh," she groaned but stretched out her limbs. Standing, she noticed that they were the only ones awake. Ariadne had passed out in the other wicker armchair and was snoring gently, while Theya and Severus had fallen asleep together on the sofa. "You're lucky you have a pretty face or I'd hex it."

"You're sweet," Regulus said, pulling her close. "You really have such delicate sensibilities."

He placed a hand on her hip and took her left hand, while her right looped beneath his arm to hold his shoulder blade. She rested her head on his chest, ignoring the fact that half her hair had come out of its bun.

"If there's anything I'm not," Ivy muttered. "It's delicate."

"You're not wrong." He paused for a moment. "Guess we know how to get Severus to open up. Alcohol."

"I know," she laughed quietly. "That was _shocking_. Maybe next time, he'll even talk about his parents in more than one sentence. I don't even know if he's pureblood."

Regulus seemed to hesitate. "He's a halfblood."

"And you're alright with that?" Ivy pulled back to look at him quizzically.

"Yes," he had a defiant look in his eye. "He's my best mate."

She almost kissed him. Almost. "I'm not your best friend?"

"Well, yes, but you're also not."

"Thanks," Ivy frowned at him, a little offended.

"Don't look at me like that, you know what I mean. Am I _your_ best friend?"

"Yes," she scowled.

"Don't let Theya hear you say that."

"You're both my best mates. Severus too, most of the time."

"And Ariadne?"

"The same."

Regulus tugged her a little closer to whisper in her ear. "She's one of your _best_ mates? You're a lot nicer to her than you used to be, but you still talk to her about as much as before the Boggarts."

Now that he was bringing it up, she realized he was right; she put effort into all of her friendships except for the one she had with Ariadne. Ivy found her uptight, sure, but she still liked and cared for her. If anything, she was being neglectful as opposed to malicious.

"Like I said after the Boggarts," she cracked a smile. "I've been a shitty friend. I should put the work in and I've been meaning to. Besides, if she ever plans to get her Dark Mark, we'd be the ones to help her. She doesn't get along with Severus quite as well – which, by the way, I find funny, considering they're both so surly."

"Wait, back up," Regulus pulled back to look at her. "You're still planning on going through with it? Getting the Mark?"

"Yes," Ivy replied, taken aback.

"Oh," his hand on her hip gripped a little tighter. "I just thought after we talked about it –-you know, that day we've skived off-– you might've changed your mind."

"Do you…" Ivy was suddenly wide awake. "Not want me to get it?"

Regulus was silent and looking over her shoulder with a frown.

"Why don't you want me to get it?" She prompted carefully with a glance at her sleeping friends.

"Because getting it… It's not what you think it's going to be."

Ivy leaned in close to his ear. "Do you regret it?"

Regulus's voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."


	13. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a heads up that this chapter is going to be gory towards the end.

**October 9** **th** **, 1976**

Ivy sat on one of the stone benches in the Viaduct Courtyard, having gotten up early with Marlene to squeeze in a study session before breakfast. The sun had just started rising, though the sky was mostly dark shades of purple and blue, their only source of light coming from burning lanterns.

As fresh as the autumn air was, the Astronomy textbook in her lap only reminded her that she could be in bed instead. Although she considered herself an early riser, even the crack of dawn was a little too early for her.

"Remind me to never get up this early again," Ivy sighed pointedly.

More than getting up early, they'd only been studying for an hour and she was already bored. There were certain subjects that she found fascinating and enjoyed doing homework for, but some of them, like Astronomy, had her bored to tears.

Marlene didn't reply, just tucked a strand of her sandy blonde hair behind her ear as she continued writing her essay beside Ivy.

"Do anything fun for Summer Hols you haven't told me about yet?" Ivy prompted.

"Ivy," Marlene warned without looking up.

"Oh, come on," she frowned. "It's not like we've got mountains of homework piling up."

"We will within the next few weeks."

"Just take a walk with me around the grounds," Ivy pleaded. "There's something I need to talk to you about, anyway."

Marlene stopped writing and raised a brow. "Green, yellow, or red?"

"Red," Ivy used their code to express the severity of secrecy.

"Red?" She pursed her lips but began rolling up her parchment. "Fine, we'll go. But if I find out you're using this as an excuse to not study, I'll start with the Cheering Charms again."

"No," Ivy groaned as they got to their feet, bookbags over their shoulders. "Last year, the Ravenclaws started a rumor that I was abusing Calming Draught. Not to mention the other one about someone slipping me Essence of Insanity."

"It's not my fault you have such a sour disposition," Marlene smirked.

Ivy rolled her eyes as they left the courtyard for the grounds.

The morning was one of the most beautiful she'd seen, as the sky was starting to lighten with brilliant violets and pinks beyond the snowcapped mountains. The air was chilly but crisp, while dew and frost covered the ground.

"What happened, then?" Marlene asked as they headed towards the Black Lake.

"I met him."

"Who?"

" _Him_."

Marlene's gaze snapped to her sharply. "Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes," Ivy said. "He's quite a bit more frightening than you'd imagine."

It was only once she'd met the Dark Lord that she'd realized she had seen his face before. She'd seen him in her crystal ball during Divination and occasionally woke from a dream remembering nothing but scarlet eyes and a high-pitched voice.

But seeing him had not been the worrisome part. The fretful part was when Lord Voldemort had used Legilimency on her. She'd suppressed her true thoughts, emotions, and memories in order to show him the life of a dutiful and devoted pureblood daughter. As far as she could tell, he'd bought it, but she'd doubled down on practicing Occlumency nonetheless.

"Did your mum make you?" Marlene asked.

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"I wanted to go," Ivy pressed her lips together, knowing that it was time to have the difficult conversation. "I'm going to become a Death Eater. An inner circle Death Eater.

" _What_?" Marlene halted, her blue eyes having gone dark. "Why would you do that? You're not actually into the Dark Arts, are you?"

Ivy rolled her eyes, despite knowing that she absolutely _adored_ the Dark Arts. She wasn't about to use that kind of magic on someone who didn't deserve it, but her desire to learn about the forbidden had always been there. And the deeper she delved, the more fascinated she became.

She tried not to think about what she could've become had Hazel not been a Squib.

"I'm not into the Dark Arts," Ivy said defensively. "I'm taking the advice you gave me second year, to fuck things up from the inside. If I get a Dark Mark, I'll have all of the most important information."

"That is the worst idea I've ever heard," Marlene told her flatly, folding her arms in defiance. "You can't do that. I won't allow it."

" _Allow_ it? You think that you, under any circumstances, allow me to do anything?"

"Just under this circumstance. Obviously, you're not in your right mind."

"'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' _You_ taught me that Muggle phrase. Phrases which, by the way, you're going to have to stop explaining to me. I said one in front of Ariadne the other day and she was suspicious for a week."

"You could just not be friends with those people."

"Not this again," Ivy scowled, feeling her temper flare. "I'm not giving up my friends. And I am going to get the Mark. It's the best way, Mar, I'd be useless otherwise. I've _already_ been useless for years because I haven't fully committed like I need to!"

"No, the best way to go about it is to be like Sirius and just leave it all behind. You saw how he was welcomed by Gryffindor with open arms."

"Please," Ivy laughed bitterly. "You Gryffindors are the worst of the lot; you've been turning the whole school against Slytherins for years. It's hypocrisy at its finest."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" Ivy rounded on her. "Haven't you noticed how the past few years at the Sorting, whenever a first year is put into Slytherin, people boo? I shouldn't have to tell kids on their first day at Hogwarts that they're going to be bullied, outcasted and hexed in the hallways for the next seven years, just because they wear green and silver. As you well know, I have quite the issue with anyone who antagonizes eleven-year-olds."

Marlene glared at her and opened her mouth.

"And then," Ivy cut her off, not finished with her rant. "You have the bloody _audacity_ to wonder why all the Slytherins are joining the Dark Lord's side. They spend years at school being harassed and belittled by their peers –-and sometimes even staff members-– so when someone offers them power and revenge, it's no wonder they accept!"

"You sound an awful lot like you want to join up," Marlene growled.

"You didn't hear a word of what I just said!" Ivy let out a frustrated scream. "The point is that I can't cross over to your side of things and I won't abandon my friends. Not when there's a chance I can help them understand the truth of things too."

"You're just being a coward," Marlene seethed. "Why can't you be like Sirius?"

"Sirius is an arsehole," Ivy hissed. "He abandoned Regulus."

"He couldn't stand it anymore and I don't blame him! Yet, on the opposite hand, _you_ seem to thrive in the pureblood world."

"Because it's thrive or die. I'm doing what I have to. Not that you'd know a single thing about duty."

"Duty? Like your duty to Snape, the git who called Lily a Mudblood _to her face_ just last week?"

Ivy huffed, very much not in the mood to talk about Severus. He'd been a right arse since Evans ended their friendship the week before, frequently flying into random rages and outright avoiding Theya.

"I've been consoling that poor girl since," Marlene continued. "She's fucking devastated and it's not like _you're_ going to say anything…"

A movement over Marlene's shoulder caught her eye and she squinted, noticing four shapes at the base of the Whomping Willow. There appeared to be some sort of altercation going on, as she noticed the figures shoving each other and heard distant shouting.

"Mar," Ivy said.

"I'm not done yet! The point is that-"

"Marlene!" Ivy spun her friend around and pointed to the Willow.

"Is that Snape?" Marlene's anger turned into confusion. "And… James and Sirius. Ah, Peter's there too. Bugger, we'd better go before they tie Snape to the trunk." She broke into a jog with Ivy at her side. "We're not done talking about this, by the way."

"Agreed," Ivy said between breaths.

As they neared the Whomping Willow, one of the figures departed towards the castle. A minute or two of running had them arriving a good distance away from the tree. Fortunately, the scuffle between the boys had moved far enough away from the vicious branches that none of them would get mauled.

"You fucking prick!" Severus shoved Sirius. "I'm going to kill you!"

"I dare you to try, Snivellus," Sirius got up into Severus's face. "See what happens!"

"Cut it out, both of you!" Potter was trying to insert himself between the two. "Snape, he didn't mean it-"

"What the hell's going on here?" Marlene demanded.

"Brought another Gryffindor to watch me get _killed_ , Black?" Severus snarled, before noticing Ivy, which brought him out of his rage just a smidge. "What're you doing here?"

"Doesn't matter," Ivy said quickly. "What's going on?"

"Lupin's a-" Severus started.

"Don't you fucking dare," Sirius had his wand to Severus's throat in a flash.

"Werewolf," Severus smirked.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Potter's spell hit Sirius's wand and he cast another Disarming Charm as Severus drew his own. He then rounded on Ivy. "Don't make me take yours, too."

"As if you could," Ivy said snidely. "Now, does someone want to explain what Lupin being a werewolf has to do with any of this?"

Potter huffed. "He's not a-"

Severus lunged for Sirius and they fell to the ground together, rolling and swinging at each other. Marlene rolled her eyes and drew her own wand, quickly fixing them both in effective Full Body-Binds.

"Yes, he is," Ivy said. "And tonight's a full moon so you're not getting out of this."

"She's right," Marlene added grudgingly. "Did Sirius sic Remus on Snape or something?"

Potter ran a hand angrily through his messy hair. "Essentially."

Ivy stared at where Sirius was on the ground, immobile and glaring at Severus beside him. Sirius's best mate had just confirmed that he'd been trying to get Severus killed. He had just tried to _murder_ one of her best friends.

As Marlene began worrying to Potter about where Lupin was, Ivy slid her wand out of her sleeve and into her hand. She subtly pointed it at Sirius and whispered a quick _Reparifors_.

Before the eldest Black son could react, she jumped on him and began throwing fists. Unleashing the cold fury that always seemed to be festering in her chest, she barely even felt her knuckles bruising as she whaled on him. Listening to the brilliant sound of a broken nose, she had just raised another fist when shouting reached her ears.

A glance over her shoulder told her that Pettigrew was headed towards them behind an alarmed and pissed Professor McGonagall.

Sirius took her distraction as a chance to switch their positions, and soon enough, they had matching broken noses.

* * *

One _Episkey_ , two disappointed scoldings, and twenty lost points later, Ivy found herself outside the Headmaster's office. She'd been waiting for several hours, as Dumbledore had spoken individually to each of the students involved in that morning's altercation. Due to Severus's rantings upon leaving, she pretty much knew what to expect.

By the time it was her turn, she entered the light, circular room with haste, hoping to get in and out as quickly as possible. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, soul-piercing blue eyes fixed on her, giving off his usual aura of calm serenity as the portraits all dozed in their frames. A massive red and gold phoenix sat on a perch beside the Headmaster, looking fairly ill.

"I already knew about Lupin," Ivy walked up to the Headmaster with folded arms. "Severus told me over the summer. I'm not going to tell anyone. And McGonagall already administered my punishment for this morning, so if that's all you needed to speak with me about, I'm rather tired."

"I would imagine so," Dumbledore smiled. "I was going to speak with you about those matters, but I trust that you understand the seriousness of the situation, given your conviction and fairly sound judgement."

"You think I have fairly sound judgement?" She echoed, taken aback.

"Indeed."

"Odd, that," she drawled, not sure what he was getting at.

"Perhaps it is, I hadn't thought so."

"Why not?"

"I believe you already know the answer to that question," his eyes twinkled mischievously.

 _Theya was right,_ Ivy thought. _He does speak in riddles._

The phoenix on the perch made a gagging noise and promptly burst into flames. Dumbledore glanced over as the resulting pile of ashes made squawking sounds.

"I had a feeling," the Headmaster said thoughtfully. "That would happen during our chat."

"Why is that?" She kept her face neutral.

"I believe you know the answer to that, also, Miss Selwyn."

"Thestrals are omens of death," she said quietly, reaching a hand up to the pin in her hair.

"Close, but not quite."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she lowered her hand to point at herself.

Dumbledore nodded wistfully.

It was then that Ivy noticed someone poking at her mental defenses. Her eyes went wide as she realized he was attempting Legilimency on her. Instantly throwing up shields around her mind, she quickly discerned that he had not been trying very hard to infiltrate her mind. Nor could she sense any malicious intent.

If anything, his attempt felt like a playful nudge or someone testing her defenses to keep her on her toes. It clicked in her mind that he was trying to prove that he was a friend.

"Headmaster," Ivy frowned, deciding not to address it. "I was wondering, how much can you do to protect Hogwarts students?"

"Are you in need of protection?" He asked calmly.

"No." There was an inexplicable feeling in her gut that told her she could trust him and she wondered whether it was another Divination sensation. "McGonagall once told me that I could trust her or you with anything."

"She did."

"While I'm not stupid enough to do that," she watched the corners of his mouth quirk up. "I wanted to know if there's some way you could force Sirius Black to move back in with his parents."

"Why do you ask?" If Dumbledore was surprised by her inquiry, he didn't show it.

Ivy decided not to divulge her most important motive, which was that Sirius could potentially help her convince Regulus to change sides in the war. Even though Regulus had flat out told her he regretted getting his Mark, she knew that he was only in the beginning stages of understanding the reality of the war.

So, she went for a half-truth. "Sirius protects Regulus."

"I see," Dumbledore gave her a sad smile. "Unfortunately, the matter of Sirius Black living with the Potters is out of my hands. But I can keep an eye on Regulus Black's situation."

"Thank you, sir," Ivy straightened a little.

One good thing that had come from her meetings with Lord Voldemort was finding out about a group opposing the Death Eaters, called the Order of the Phoenix. Albus Dumbledore was the leader, so she hoped that if anyone could provide Regulus with a little extra protection, it was him.

She could only hope.

* * *

 **December 29** **th** **, 1976**

Ivy's eyes start to glaze over as she entered her third hour of torture.

She was in a Muggle's beige and brown kitchen under the cover of night, blood splattering her robes and features. A man knelt before her, screaming in agony as she lashed out with bright, deadly spells. His wife laid on the kitchen table, being tortured by Regulus, though Ivy barely heard anything else going on around her.

There was only her, the Muggle, and Lord Voldemort, the latter of which was continuously probing her mind. It was taking all the effort she had to torture the man and simultaneously keep the Dark Lord from delving too deep into her subconscious. Revealing enough to seem barbarous but concealing the rest was starting to make her dizzy.

Knowing she couldn't keep it up much longer, she forced her eyes back into focus. Her victim's body was mutilated and his face was revoltingly unrecognizable. What was left of his eyes were empty and she lifted a foot to his chest, kicking him back into the pool of blood, which sprayed onto her.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" She shouted.

The blast of green nailed him in the chest, but the Muggle didn't even twitch, causing her to wonder how long she'd been torturing a dead body.

A black haze had fallen over her mind and she turned to take in the rest of the kitchen, fighting to stay on her feet. The Dark Lord hadn't moved in the past three hours, as he remained a few feet away by the counter, ghostly pale fingertips pressed together as he reveled in the atrocity.

Lord Voldemort's scarlet eyes were on Regulus, who had paused his torture questioningly.

"Finish her," the Dark Lord hissed.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

As the victim exhaled her last breath, an unnatural smirk came unbidden over Ivy's features. Still focused on protecting her mind and playing the role, she hardly even heard when Voldemort asked her to kneel before him in the pool of blood.

She did so without thinking, pulling up her left sleeve to reveal her bare forearm.

The pain that came next was nearly unbearable. It felt something like a scorching hot blade digging in and carving out her flesh. She clenched her jaw tight, trying to focus on the sweat dripping down her back and the damp hair that had come loose from her bun, which was stuck to her neck.

When the cutting stopped, she let out a staggering breath and opened her eyes. Chunks of the flesh on her arm had been removed and she felt dizzy again seeing so much blood.

The Dark Lord hissed out another incantation.

Black liquid flowed from the tip of his wand, filling in where her tissue had been intricately and carefully cut out. The fluid was intensely cold but it immediately relieved the pain flashing throughout her, and a frigid electric shock ran through her nerves. The liquid filled the gouges in her arm and then turned solid.

Her arm was whole again, the exact same as before, aside from the dark grey snake and skull that now slithered there.

Ivy beheld her Mark, feeling oddly revitalized. The anguish and exhaustion had gone, replaced by a feeling of cold strength and an eerie calm. She looked up into Voldemort's scarlet eyes as he opened his mouth to speak dreaded words.

"You remind me of Bellatrix."

* * *

Regulus accompanied Ivy to Selwyn Estate, all the while trying to get a sense of her mental state. After leaving the Dark Lord, she had grabbed tight to his hand, but hadn't uttered a word, even when he asked her a direct question.

Upon Floo'ing into the Estate's dark drawing room, Ivy remained as silent as the dead they'd left beneath a Dark Mark. Her cold fingers remained in his as she guided him through the dim and dark halls of her home until they reached her bedroom.

As Regulus locked the door behind them, Ivy immediately began shedding her robes and changing into nightclothes. Momentarily shocked, he watched as her robes slipped off her svelte body and only remembered to turn away when she was in her knickers.

Diverting his gaze, he cast a _Muffliato_ and made a move to turn on the light, as the only source of light was the moon just beyond her window.

"Don't," Ivy said hoarsely.

Glancing back at her, she had changed into a black negligee and was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap as she stared at nothing. The Muggle man's dried blood was still on her face and neck.

Unsure of how to help, he went to sit beside her and remembered the spell he'd located that blocked out pain receptors. "Did it work, by the way? The spell?"

She nodded, barely, before shifting to lay her head in his lap.

Regulus was surprised, because although Ivy was fairly affectionate, putting her head in his lap was an incredibly submissive and defeated move for her. She curled up, looking exhausted, and he gently pulled the black ribbons out of her hair, noting the way her eyelids fluttered at his touch.

If he was being quite honest, he was a little frightened. Because Ivy, the control freak that she was, was relinquishing all of her control in that moment. She wasn't bothering with fronts of toughness or neutrality.

He knew without her saying that this was her lowest point. But he didn't know whether it was due to the torture or the regret that he could feel so clearly in her.

"I can see the death," Ivy whispered.

"Me too," he said quietly. "Most nights when I'm asleep."

"That's not what I mean," she frowned a little. "I can _see_ it. I saw it on you and Severus when you noticed the Thestrals. It was like ash floating away in the wind. It's on me now, too. Like my innocence is fluttering away in pieces."

"I didn't think you had any innocence left," Regulus tried for a joke.

"Ha ha," Ivy said humorlessly, fixing her silver gaze on him. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Oh, sure, anything."

Ivy sat up and led him to the attached lavatory. She went to a cabinet beneath the sink and retrieved a towel, tossing it over to him before going to sit on the edge of the tub. Lifting a shaky hand, she gestured to her face and neck.

Regulus nodded in understanding. Rolling up his sleeves, he wetted the towel before going to kneel in front of her.

Gently wiping the dried blood from her, he was only a few inches from her face. As he carefully wiped over her face and neck, she watched him with something harrowing in her eyes, a look that he did his best to ignore. Entirely ignoring the curve of her breasts just above the neckline of the negligee, he focused on getting every filthy drop off of her porcelain skin.

In a strange way, he found the moment peaceful. Not because of the torture or death or the look in her eyes, but because she was letting him take care of her. Whether it was due to delirium or desire, he didn't know. But he appreciated it. Because although she was silent and still, this was the rawest he'd seen her in years. He could _actually_ see how she felt, instead of gauging nothing from the mask she typically wore.

Regulus went over the same areas twice to make sure he got everything before setting the cloth aside. He shifted his weight back onto his feet, as his knees were becoming disgruntled.

"We have the same scars now," Ivy broke the silence, sounding a little like she was talking to herself as she traced a finger over his Dark Mark, then the scar on his collarbone. "The exact same scars."

Knowing that she meant more than just physically, he gave her a small smile. Taking her left hand, he turned her wrist to see her Dark Mark. Leaning down, he kissed it softly.

"Your scars are much prettier than mine," Regulus said.

"And they call Sirius the smooth talker," Ivy gave a half-hearted smile, a little light coming back to her eyes.

"There you are," he let out a low laugh. "I was wondering if you were going to come back to me."

"I don't even know if I'm coming back to _me_."

"Don't say that," he said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd be fine," she avoided his eyes. "It's not like anyone needs me."

"I need you," Regulus told her, bringing a hand up to chin and gently making her look at him. "So does Theya. And the Dark Lord, too, apparently."

"Too soon," Ivy winced, though a short laugh came with it.

"Got you to laugh, though, didn't I?"

"You've got a wicked sense of humor," she rubbed her eyes. "I'd better get to bed."

"Probably," Regulus sighed and stood.

"Wait," Ivy caught his hand. "Would you – would you stay with me tonight?"

"Oh," he raised his brows. "What about your mother?"

"Fuck her," Ivy said dryly. "Besides, I… I can't be alone tonight. Please."

Regulus looked at her pained silver eyes, her white hair stringy from sweat. There was zero chance that he was going to say no to her and he gulped, knowing that he'd very well give her the ocean if she asked for it.

Giving her a nod, Ivy led him back to her bedroom and got under the covers. He respectfully maintained his distance on the right side of the bed, inhaling that lavender smell as they rested quietly.

He'd only been laying there a few minutes before Ivy snuggled into him.

Regulus knew it wasn't a sexual move and pushed off all those related thoughts as best he could. She curled up with her back against his chest, taking his arm and securing it tightly around her. The little movement she made with her hips to get comfortable tested his restraint, but he forced himself to think about anything other than how close she was.

The moment was too precious for him to ruin. And as he fell asleep, holding her against him like he wished he could do every night, he knew there was little he wouldn't do to hold her like that again.


	14. Raw and Reeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a playlist for this fic if anyone wants to check it out: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5WbIPrvrH5GeX2d3jKvUOy?si=Ybxf8oCVQtm_P-1_qC41sA

**October 10 th, 1976**

A long, rugged gasp crawled its way out of Ivy’s throat as she sat straight up in bed. Covered in sweat, her body shook uncontrollably and despite her eyes being open, all she could see was a bloody corpse and glowing scarlet eyes.

“Ivy!” Regulus whispered.

Feeling his hand on her back, she jerked away as it registered that Regulus had fallen asleep beside her. The sound of sheets rustling reached her ears as though from a distance, as her heart was too busy wrenching in her ribcage.

Curling her legs to her chest, sobs heaved out of her like she’d been holding them in for years. They were the ugly, destructive kind that she’d only ever released over Hazel.

“Ivy,” he tried again. “Talk to me.”

She pressed her palms into her eyes, wishing she could carve them out of her skull. The image of the Muggle she’d tortured and murdered wouldn’t leave her head and she gripped herself as though she needed to keep the memory from escaping outside of her form.

Regulus’s hand moved to her back again, tentatively, but she didn’t try to shrug it off this time. She only began emitting frustrated moans, even as he pulled her against his chest.

“He was d-dead,” she remained curled into herself, voice raw and aching. “But I-I didn’t even notice. I j-just kept going.”

“I know,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

He began smoothing down her hair and at the touch, Ivy uncurled only to begin clinging to him, her fists tight in his shirt.

“He’s all I can s-see,” Ivy released another low, pained groan.

She felt Regulus begin to pull away, but her grip tightened. He tried again, but she refused to let him, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

“Ivy,” he said softly, “the only way to stop seeing him is to see me.”

His comment caught her off guard long enough that he was able to pry her off him and she found herself sitting upright. Ivy kept her eyes tightly closed, feeling as though it was her duty to keep seeing the Muggle.

Ivy had murdered someone whose name she didn’t even know.

“Look at me, Ivy.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

No one had seen her in her entirety in years and she was nothing but herself right then. Her friends liked who she was when she was putting up a front, but they wouldn’t claim her if they could see who was tucked inside.

“Because you see me,” another tear slipped down her cheek.

“Please. Ivy, please.”

She tilted her head back to the canopy of her bed and opened her eyes, looking down her nose at him.

Regulus seemed surprisingly calm, though certainly concerned, his dark hair fussed from sleep and his clothes equally as ruffled. Dark eyes poured into her, seeing her, feeling her, touching her, and making her chest burn.

It was agony being perceived by him when she so deeply didn’t want to be.

“Look at me,” he said.

“I am.”

“Ivy.”

Taking a breath, she tilted her head back down, the movement excruciating in her mind.

“Why don’t you want me to see you?”

Regulus took her hand slowly as though any sudden moves would send her screaming down the hallway. Which, they probably would.

“I…” She started. “I can’t explain.”

“It’s alright,” he brought both his hands to hold hers. “This is nothing new to me.”

Ivy stared at him.

“Fine,” he gave a small smile. “You crying in front of me is new…ish, but _you’re_ not new.”

“Yes I am,” her voice cracked. “I was new when Hazel died and I’m new again tonight. But I never wanted either of those things. I never asked to be this way.”

“I like the way you are.”

“Why?”

Regulus looked taken aback and was silent, a frown creasing his features.

“See?” Ivy tugged her hands back, wiping at her face. “I’m like Bellatrix now. I don’t think there’s anything left to like.”

“You are not like my cousin,” Regulus replied adamantly.

“The Dark Lord said it himself.”

“And just because he says it, that makes it true?”

Ivy opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“You’re nothing like Bellatrix,” Regulus said, voice earnest and reassuring. “She’s cruel and just… pure evil.”

“And I’m not?” She thought it was hypocritical considering the actions they’d both taken that very night. The memory of the man came back to her head and she put her hands over her face.

“Don’t do that,” his fingers took her hands in his own, holding them securely. “I want you to look me in the eyes when I tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” Her chest shook, tears continuing to leak out. “That I’m not just a younger version of Bellatrix, destined to a life of wickedness? Of murdering innocents, torturing them even once they’re dead? This thing on my arm – there’s no undoing it. It’s who I am now.”

“You are not your scars,” he persisted. “You won’t let your life be that way and neither will I. The only thing you have in common with my cousin is your House. Do you think she would go to lengths you would to keep me and everyone else you care about safe? Do you think she even has the capacity to do what you did tonight and react with so much regret that I feel it radiating off you?”

“No,” Ivy admitted. “But what happened tonight… What I did --what we did-- is _unforgivable_. And how many more people am I going to have to hurt and torture now that I’ve got my Mark?”

He pursed his lips and she knew she had him.

“I have to do these things now,” Ivy’s voice trembled, lacking the control she so desperately liked to cling to. “These cold things that will tear me apart again and again and again. I _felt_ a piece of my… soul leave me.”

What was worse than that, was that she knew where the piece of her soul was.

Inside the silver and opal ring she wore on her pinky finger.

Ivy didn’t have a clue what it meant, what implications there would be, or why it had happened when Regulus and Severus had never mentioned such a thing. What she knew was that she was afraid, like she had never been before.

“You feel it,” Regulus said slowly. “Like how you do with your Divination senses?”

“No,” Ivy said quietly, trying to focus on his warm hands encircling hers. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s different. I even feel… different.”

“Different how?” If it was possible, he looked even more concerned.

Shaking her head, she blew out a long breath, wiping away a tear.

It was inexplicable and she couldn’t put her finger on how she felt altered. She just knew that she was. That something irreversible had changed, that a part of her now lived in her ring.

 _Merlin_ , she thought, _I’m going mad._

“Why aren’t you running to the Dark Lord to tell him all of this?” Ivy dodged his question with her own. “Don’t these Marks mean we’re eternally faithful?”

“You know where I stand on this,” he looked away from her for the first time that night, seeming suddenly uncomfortable.

“No, I don’t,” she frowned at him. “Feel free to cue me in because I’ve been wondering.”

“So have I.”

His answer surprised and intrigued her, enough that the picture of the Muggle man in her head dissipated.

“I don’t know where I stand anymore,” Regulus glanced up at her and began fiddling with her fingers. “Something shifted when I got my Mark.”

“Like a piece of your soul was gone?” She asked tentatively.

He met her gaze once more and nodded slowly.

“Do you know where that piece of your soul is?” Ivy pushed.

“No. Do you know where yours is?”

“I don’t,” she lied, as it was second nature to her by then.

Instinct told her that what had happened with her ring was an abnormality; something that should never have happened. Evidently, she was on her own.

“Where do you stand now?” Regulus asked uncertainly.

Locking eyes with him, it suddenly occurred to her what dangerous territory she’d put herself in. A spike of panic shot up her spine and she began to pull away, both mentally and physically.

“Don’t,” his grip on her hands tightened.

The choked tone of his voice made her hesitate, just as she thought to put up the barriers he’d brought down so easily.

“Don’t retreat,” he begged. “Please stay with me for just a little while longer. _Please_ , Ivy, don’t leave me alone after tonight.”

Ivy knew very well that they couldn’t continue with the topic they were on, that she’d already said too much. But she also couldn’t bear the look on his face, the tears that welled up in his eyes.

She realized then that she wasn’t the only one who had gone through an ordeal. He had been right with her the entire night, committing a mutually shared abomination that very well could have split him into further shards.

Misguided as he still was, he too didn’t want what he’d done.

Doing the only thing she could think to do, Ivy leaned in and kissed him.

When Regulus didn’t kiss her back, she pulled away with a question in her eyes.

For the split second that they made eye contact, she saw that his dark hues were ablaze. His hand came to the back of her neck, yanking her back in to crush his mouth against hers with a kind of tenacity that set her alight.

Kissing him back just as hard, their tongues fought with each other and she knew there would be no satiating her desire to devour him. Her arms fastened around his neck and her fingers found his hair, firmly capturing the locks in tightened fists.

As though Regulus shared the raging desperation that began festering in her gut, he hauled her onto his lap. Body squeezed tight against his firm chest, her thighs locking on either side of his pelvis, Ivy released a moan as his teeth latched onto her lower lip, biting hard.

Feeling a firmness grow against where she touched herself when thinking about him, she ground her hips against him in a feral manner that she’d never thought herself capable of.

Regulus’s mouth left hers and she let out a whimper.

Almost instantly, his lips found her neck and he left her skin tingling and in pain as he sucked and bit at her flesh. Making his way down to her chest as her body quivered with desire, he reached the top of her breasts and began to lavish them with the same ferocious nips and licks.

Making quick work of his shirt and her negligee, they tossed them elsewhere, leaving Ivy only in her underthings.

Every thought in her head vanished as she rotated her still concealed wetness against the firmness of his groin, tugging hard at his shoulder-length hair. Regulus’s hot mouth latched onto one of her breasts, sucking hard as his other hand slipped over her hips to grip her arse so hard that she knew there would be bruises.

The idea spurred her on as he bit and plucked her nipples in the most delicious way, the fingers of her other hand digging into his bare shoulders and down his back.

Regulus made a sound of pain and she began to pull away, only for him recapture her neck, moaning a throaty “I love it” against her skin. Clenching her jaw, she felt the tension between her legs build to a point so achingly close to satisfaction.

As though he could sense it, Regulus pulled her off him. Before she could protest, he slammed her onto the bed, crawling over her form to grind himself against her with one fluid arch of his back.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Regulus growled, dark eyes heady as he stared her down, one hand gripping her hip hard. “You’ll come by my mouth or my cock, understand?”

His words very nearly sent her over the edge and all she could do was nod.

She lifted her torso up to kiss him again but he pushed her back down and held her firmly in place, making all the breath in her near-naked body vanish.

“Which is it going to be?” His voice was wild and deep.

“Both,” she snapped back, frustrated beyond belief.

Ivy only caught his smirk before he kissed her again, claiming her mouth for his own. Their mouths tangled in demanding disorder as he roughly yanked her slick panties down her thighs and off her body.

Regulus moved to lick between her breasts and she noticed him tuck her underthings into the back pocket of his pants, which were discarded a moment later. Both completely nude, Ivy went to grab his cock, wanting to feel the long length and bring him the pleasure he so readily was giving her.

“Not until you’ve earned it,” he snarled, grabbing her hand and pinning it to the bed.

“How do I earn it?” Ivy growled back, ready to whimper and beg and slave just to feel him.

“Come for me,” he smirked, an entirely too wicked look in his eyes.

Regulus’s mouth found her core before she could respond and she let out a loud gasp as he inserted two fingers, curling them delectably. His other hand moved her legs over his shoulders and his nails dug roughly into her thigh as he licked her.

The powerful sensation between her legs returned in full strength as he sucked the little nub between her legs, fingers pumping in and out of her at an accelerating pace. Her legs shivered uncontrollably as he bit her gently. Back arching, fingers having found the dark locks of his hair, she took a fistful of it and dug her nails into his scalp.

Ivy’s hips began to buck against his mouth despite his best efforts to hold her down on the mattress. Her elation built with every pump of his long fingers, every lick of his skillful tongue, until she cried out.

Release sunk into her every pore, reaching all the way down to her toes, which curled with the sensation of spiraling into oblivion. Regulus continued his work as she rode the orgasm, hips still jerking uncontrollably against his hot tongue.

When her pelvis slowed, sweat damp on her body, he pulled away with an intoxicated grin, licking the middle finger he’d just had inside of her. Ivy let out a mindless laugh as he moved to hover over her, slowly bringing his index finger to her lips.

Holding his stare as her body began to return to normalcy, she leaned forward until his finger reached the back of her throat. Forcing back a gag, she slowly sucked the taste of herself from his finger, a dare in her eyes.

The fingers of his other hand, which had found her hip, dug in and her eyes dropped to his large, hard length. Looking back up at him, she raised a brow as her own hand encircled him, thumb brushing over the wet tip.

Though Ivy didn’t have any experience with cocks, she realized that Theya was right. _It’ll come naturally, you’ll know what to do_ , she’d said.

Regulus’s head tilted back as he released a low groan, maintaining eye contact. It was enough to tell her that she had the green light and she slowl, began to stroke him up and down. Propping himself up with both his forearms, his body lowered to hers, his cock was so close to where she wanted it.

It was her turn to grin wickedly as she watched him lose the control he’d had only moments before. Continuing with her tantalizing pace, she felt him throb in her hand.

“You’re really going to tease me now?” Regulus released a half-laugh, half-strained breath as his hips pushed against her hand.

“No,” she smirked. “That would make me cruel.”

And although she wanted to be very, very cruel, she couldn’t wait to fuck him.

“It’s my first time,” she said suddenly, realizing that she hadn’t told him.

“Really?” He halted, looking her in the eyes.

“Is that bad?” She asked, feeling unsure of herself for the first time that night.

“No,” he leaned in to kiss her. “If anything, it’s an honor.”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Yeah,” Regulus grinned back, gently removing her hand from him. “Better let me do it, love. Tell me if you need to stop.”

He positioned himself at her still moist entrance, watching her face intently as he slowly pushed inside. Ivy let out a gasp of pain, grabbing his shoulder in surprise.

“Are you alright?” He stopped, a look of concern on his aristocratic features.

She nodded and tapped his shoulder, signaling for him to continue as she breathed through the pain. When he was buried in her to the hilt and began to pull out, she was still in pain. But where he’d been rough before, he’d turned to gentleness and observed her every move as the hurt began to give way to pleasure.

Ivy exhaled slowly as they started to find a rhythm, their mutual concern melting back into sensuality. Regulus began to move quicker and Ivy put a hand on his chest to halt him.

When he looked at her questioningly, she just smiled and switched their positions.

Once he was sitting against her headboard, she straddled his waist and lowered herself onto him with a sigh of satisfaction, thinking that his chest was begging to be scratched.

Making good on her mental note, Ivy’s hips began to swirl, moving up and down on his groin as the familiar sensation of a rising orgasm procured between her legs. Placing a hand on the headboard, she kissed him deeply, breasts bouncing against his chest as she dug her nails into his firm torso.

Regulus’s hips bucked against hers and he moaned her name into her mouth, his hands gripping her bare arse in the most delicious way that only added to her mounting sexual frustration. She relished the muscle of his abdomen as he gave her arse a firm smack and made her cry for more.

Grinding her pelvis down on him, she felt the shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through her body and one of his hands slid over her hip and stomach to grasp a breast, which he gripped hard. When he plucked at her nipple, sending a spiral of rapture down her spine, she dug her fingers hard into his shoulders, coming helplessly near to the edge once more.

“I’m close,” Regulus whispered against her mouth, one hand squeezing her arse so hard she delightfully knew he’d leave fingerprints.

“Come for me,” she murmured back.

In response, he held her hips still and began to piston into her from below, sending her directly into the mouth of ecstasy. Ivy felt Regulus come inside of her, signaled by a cavernous moan, and she slammed her hips against his over and over as she rode out the exquisite waves of bliss that washed over her body. The thought that he was coming inside of her only made the orgasm more powerful and their hot, sweaty bodies starting slowing against each other as Ivy released a final wail of passion.

In the aftermath, she withdrew from his softening length, casting a quick cleaning spell before they laid together as a mess of tangled limbs. Her body pressed to his side and her hand laid on his chest, monitoring his slowed heartrate, they were quiet in enchanted bliss.

Regulus pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking her loose white hair as they recovered.

After a few moments of silence, Ivy propped her head up on a hand to look him in the face. “So what now?”

“You and your need to control everything,” he said teasingly. “We don’t need to figure it out now.”

“No?” She raised her brows.

“Do you want to figure it out now?”

“No. But-” She was cut off by Regulus kissing her.

Ivy pulled away with a laugh. “Stop, I’m trying to-”

“ _I’m_ trying to get you out of your head for once.”

“I was already out of my head more than once tonight.”

“I can make it happen again,” he raised a brow suggestively.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at him. She knew she should talk to him, _really_ talk to him, to find out where they stood, since they both seemed to avoid the topic at all costs. But, fortunately or unfortunately, she was very much enjoying the post-sex bliss she’d never before gotten to have, much less with _him_.

“Fine,” she laughed, moving to straddle his lap.


	15. Combustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys are in for a ride. Can't wait to see what you all think because I even shocked myself. Drop me a comment I need to hear what you think!

**January 15 th, 1977**

Ivy laughed mid-inhale and choked on a puff of smoke. Gagging, she passed the cigarette to Theya, who was cross-legged on the desk beside her. Ariadne sat neatly with her legs crossed on a chair in front of them, occasionally glancing at the door of the empty classroom despite the spells they’d used to block intruders.

“You’ve got to be taking the piss,” Theya tried to take a drag but kept giggling.

“I’m being completely serious,” Ariadne smirked, holding up her thumb. “It’s this big and let me tell you, Mulciber does _not_ know how to use it.”

Theya gave up on trying to smoke as she doubled over with laughter, handing the cigarette to Ariadne.

“Alright, alright,” Ivy grinned. “Who has the biggest you’ve seen, then?”

“Rosier,” Theya and Ariadne said at once.

Ivy let out a high-pitched laugh.

“No way,” Ariadne’s dark eyes were wide and horrified. “We had sex with the same bloke? But I’ve only been with Mulciber and Rosier!”

“Relax,” Theya smirked. “Now we can talk about technique and girth and-”

“I will not be talking about technique, much less _girth_ ,” Ariadne looked scandalized. “What happens in the bedroom is supposed to stay in the bedroom.”

“You didn’t feel that way about Mulciber,” Ivy pointed out.

“Because I didn’t know they could be that small!” Ariadne protested.

Ivy snickered, taking the cigarette and a drag off it.

“What about you, Iv?” Theya winked at her and shimmied. “You finally do the nasty?”

“Ugh,” Ariadne wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call it _that_.”

“Sure did,” Ivy passed the cigarette off.

“Yeah, right,” Theya snorted.

Ivy made a face at her and raised her brows at Ariadne for help.

“Sorry,” Ariadne giggled. “I don’t believe it either. Honestly, I thought you were waiting until marriage or something.”

“Please,” Ivy scoffed. “I’ve been having sex since October.”

“October?” Theya glanced at Ariadne.

“Yeah,” Ivy shrugged. “And by the way, I _also_ fucked Rosier. Last week.”

Theya roared with laughter at the disgusted look on Ariadne’s face.

“What a dog!” Ariadne shook her head.

Once Theya had calmed, she asked tentatively, “So who popped your cherry, then?”

“Regulus.”

Ariadne choked and began coughing as she passed the cigarette to Theya.

Immediately, Ivy felt the fun drain out of the room and watched it vanish from their faces. She frowned, wondering whether Regulus had done something to tick them off that she didn’t know about.

“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” Ivy stared at them, disappointed in their reaction. “It was after I got my Dark Mark. He kind of cleaned me up and then spent the night. Thank Merlin, my mother didn’t find us. Anyway, we’ve been sleeping together for m-”

Ariadne stood suddenly, chair scraping against the stone floor. She grabbed her bookbag, shot Ivy a rather hurt look, then stormed out of the classroom without a word.

Ivy stared after her as the door slammed shut, confused and a little offended.

“What the hell was that about?” Ivy raised a brow at Theya. “She’s not jealous that I got the Dark Mark, is she? Because that was ages ago. I know she wants one herself, but it’s not my fault she’s been too scared to get involved.”

“You’re being a shitty friend,” Theya said flatly.

“What did I do to you?” Ivy scowled, taking the cigarette from between her fingers.

“It’s not about me,” Theya snatched it back and tossed it over her shoulder. “But the fact that you always seem to forget that Ariadne is one of your best mates does irk me. She’s upset because she’s had a crush on Regulus for almost as long as you and you pretend you don’t know. It’s downright insensitive at this point.”

Ivy opened her mouth to argue that no one has liked Regulus longer than her, before deciding to keep that comment to herself. “You two have been discussing this behind my back?”

“It’s not like she can say it your face. You might love confrontation, but Ariadne doesn’t.”

“And her inability to communicate is my fault?”

“No,” Theya glared at her. “What’s your fault, is the fact that you’ve been leading him on for years. Not only do you make it hard for Ariadne, but you’ve also got Regulus confused out of his mind.”

“He told you that?” Ivy felt queasy.

“You’re not his only friend,” she snapped. “That boy is completely in love with you, but you act oblivious. You can’t just ignore all your problems and hope they’ll go away.”

_Its worked until now._

Ivy eyed Theya for a long moment. “This is about Severus, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Theya jumped off the desk. “Bring him into this.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Ivy laughed humorlessly. “He’s been ignoring you since October and you’re putting your problem with him and Evans onto my relationships. I love you, They, but this is a little much.”

“Shut up,” Theya hissed, hazel eyes flashing. “Maybe if you could stop being so goddamn _selfish_ for two seconds, you’d see what’s right in front of you. You’ve been leading Regulus on for years, pretending you don’t know exactly what’s going on. Well, guess what? Ariadne’s in love with him too, so make up your fucking mind already. Either be with him or cut him loose, because you’re hurting her.”

“So, what you’re really saying,” Ivy folded her arms. “Is that Severus is in love with Evans and you’re too afraid to tell him how _you_ feel because he doesn’t love you back.”

Ivy’s hand shot to her mouth as soon as the words came out. Regret instantly nested in her stomach as tears began to well in Theya’s eyes.

“I ought to fucking hit you for that,” Theya choked, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You _do not_ get to be a bitch to me. But I guess being your mate –-your best mate, nonetheless-– means absolutely _fuck all_ , huh?”

Theya turned on the spot, hair slapping Ivy across the face as she left.

* * *

**February 3 rd, 1977**

Ivy tried to suppress the anxiety coursing through her as she headed in the direction of the dungeons. Her stomach was a mess of knots as she entered the Slytherin common room. She quickly located Regulus, who sat in one of the plush emerald armchairs with a book in his lap.

Pausing in the doorway, she loitered nervously, fiddling with the opal and silver ring on her pinky finger that she still had no leads on.

After weeks of being given the cold shoulder by Theya and Ariadne – forcing her to spend most of her time with Severus – she grudgingly realized that Theya was right.

It was time to make things clear with Regulus.

Hearing other Slytherins behind her, Ivy moved out of the doorway. Putting on a calm façade, she threw her shoulders back and headed over to him, eyeing the waters of the Black Lake just beyond the windows of the common room.

“Hey,” she started. “Come take a walk with me. There’s something I need to speak with you about.”

“Could it wait?” Regulus glanced up from his book. “I’ve just reached the good part.”

“It can’t, actually,” Ivy ignored the roiling of her stomach.

“Alright,” he sighed.

Regulus closed his small novel and stuffed it into his robes as Ivy guided them out of the common room. As they began to mosey away from the dungeons, she was glad that night had fallen and there weren’t many students out and about.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt in the middle of the climax?” Regulus asked teasingly. “Martin Miggs was stuck in a tree.”

Ivy looked at him sidelong. “Charming your comics to look like books fools no one if you talk about what you’re reading, you know.”

“Well, you already knew it was charmed.”

“True.”

Regulus eyed her. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Releasing a sigh, Ivy moved into a nearby alcove, letting a strolling couple pass them. She waited until they were alone amongst the stone and torches, dreading each passing second. Momentarily, she considered avoiding the topic for as long as possible – which was what she wanted to do – before deciding to rip off the bandage.

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she blurted.

“You’re _not_ my girlfriend,” Regulus raised a brow.

“I know, I mean… Theya told me you were confused about where we stand. And I wanted to be upfront with you that we can’t be together. Romantically. She was right, I’ve been leading you on, and it’s not fair to you.”

“Oh,” he blinked in apparent surprise. “But I thought…”

“I’m sorry,” she pursed her lips. “I can’t be with you like that.”

The look on Regulus’s face was unreadable, though she certainly was trying. He gave nothing away, not even by a twitch in his jaw or tension in his shoulders, and he’d stuck his hands in the pockets of his robes, making it impossible to know what to expect.

“What about our marriage contract?” He finally asked.

“That’s not breakable,” Ivy said carefully, leaning against the wall. “As far as I know.”

“You said you _can’t_ be with me,” Regulus said slowly. “Not that you don’t want to. Why can’t you?”

“Because I’m not ready to be in a relationship. And I need to make it clear that you don’t have to wait for me and I don’t expect you to.”

“That’s rubbish,” he rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Regulus stepped closer to her. “That’s rubbish. Tell me the truth.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Ivy narrowed her eyes at him.

“No,” he moved closer, now entering her personal space. “I’m trying to get you to tell the truth.”

“How do you fancy that?” She didn’t make a move to leave.

“You have a hard time lying,” Regulus smirked. “The closer I get to you.”

Her breath hitched as she found herself stuck between him and the wall. She could smell his scent of pine trees and their chests were a mere inch apart. Images came unbidden into her mind, ideas of him pinning her arms to the wall or pressing her completely against it, his hands and tongue doing positively indecent things to her.

“That’s true in more ways than one,” Ivy turned her face to look down the corridor, trying not to let his gaze strip her. “It’s also the answer to your question. Besides, Ariadne is in love with you and I’ve been daft trying to ignore it. For the record, so have you.”

“I don’t care about Ariadne,” his hand came to her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. “That’s why _I_ ignore it. But I can tell you’ve only given me half the answer. You’re scared of this. Of me. Why?”

“Because,” Ivy rubbed her lips together, a thrill of excitement running through her despite herself when his gaze dropped to her mouth. “You make me want to break every last one of my rules.”

“What kind of rules?” His dark eyes were fixed on her mouth and he leaned in just barely.

“You know what kind,” she said hazily, most of the thoughts having vanished from her head.

“No, I don’t, tell me,” Regulus demanded, hands finding their way to her hips.

Ivy struggled to remember her rules and was having a hard time thinking about anything other than his thumbs gently brushing her sides and how tantalizingly close his face was to hers. Her body instinctually closed the remaining space between their chests, causing her memory to jog, though she didn’t pull away.

“You make me want to break my No Regulus Rule,” Ivy breathed, hands sliding slowly up his arms to rest against his chest.

“Why do you have that rule?” Regulus’s tone bordered on a whine. “If you ask me, it’s a stupid fucking rule, one that _really_ needs to be broken.”

“I’ve already broken it many times the past few months.” Trying to restrain herself, she dug her nails into his chest a little, though that only caused a muscle to feather in his jaw and his grip on her hips to tighten.

“Why not break it again?” He licked his lips.

“Breaking it again would be catastrophic,” her eyes were fixed on his mouth and she inherently knew he’d drawn her attention there on purpose. Traitorously, she wasn’t complaining. “I’m talking cities burned to ash and thousands of deaths catastrophic.”

“Maybe I want catastrophic,” he said hoarsely, reaching a hand up to finger the black ribbons in her hair. “Maybe I want you.”

“Maybe I want you too,” Ivy forced back the surge of emotions that rose up, as much as it strangled her to do so. “But you’re my biggest temptation. Which is why I can’t have you. And Ariadne…”

Regulus held her gaze as he removed the Thestral hairpin from her bun. She remained utterly still as he did so, fearing that his close contact would shatter her resolve. A smirk slowly crossed his mouth as he dropped the hairpiece into her right pocket.

“…Ariadne,” Ivy repeated aloud. “And… my rules.”

He raised a brow at her, hand moving to grab the end of one of her black ribbons.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she said as her mind was assaulted with the memory of the last time they’d been in this position.

Regulus just grinned, pulling the ribbon and causing her white hair to fall loose. He maintained eye contact, stuffing the ribbon into her pocket with the hairpin.

“I hate you,” Ivy told him, before crushing her mouth against his.

His fingers dug into her hips, pressing her hard against his chest and squeezing the breath deliciously from her lungs. Her hands rushed to his hair, relishing the silky, shaggy locks as his tongue entered her mouth to wage war on her own. When she pulled hard his hair, he groaned against her mouth and his hand slid down to smack her arse.

Ivy gasped headily and bit his lower lip in reply.

Regulus chuckled against her mouth and pulled away, lips moving down to her neck where he sucked and left wet kisses. She could feel his hardness growing against her thigh and _oh_ did she want to take advantage of that. In fact, she could think of about thirty-seven different ways to take advantage of that.

Breathing heavily, she gripped his biceps, digging her nails in to see if she could elicit another one of his husky groans.

However, his response was lost on her when she made eye contact with a child over Regulus’s shoulder. He looked about twelve, with bouncy blonde hair and wide, horrified blue eyes. The Ravenclaw she recognized as Gilderoy Lockhart had frozen mid-step to gawk at them.

Feeling Regulus’s hand on her arse, she hissed, “Regulus! Stop – look!”

He pulled back to look over his shoulder before scowling. “Piss off or I’ll send a Scalping Hex your way!”

The kid squeaked and took off running down the corridor.

Ivy swatted Regulus’s shoulder, still in his embrace. “Kid’s a second year, Regulus!”

“And?” He ran a hand through his hair irritably. “He just interrupted- he interrupted _us_. Unacceptable. Especially with what we were just doing.” He sighed, hands having coming to her hips again, a pouty look his face. “We should probably get back before curfew.”

“Or we could…” Ivy made the split-second, _stupid_ decision to desperately cling to their bubble of intimacy. “Find somewhere to…”

Regulus’s face brightened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I mean, I meant what I said earlier. We can’t be together. But maybe just for tonight we could… Be together.”

“Alright.”

“You’re fine with that?”

“You think I’d say no?” Regulus laughed. “Where do you want to, ah, be together, then?”

“Not the dormitory.”

“That can be arranged.”

They took a moment to straighten out their clothing before Regulus took her hand and they began at a jog down the corridor. His face was equally as red as hers as they hurried up a few levels, Ivy letting out the occasional mischievous giggle.

* * *

Soon enough, Ivy found herself in an empty classroom with Regulus, who had just finished putting a Locking Charm on the door.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” he pointed his blackthorn wand at the door.

“You plan on being loud?” Ivy was full of energy as she hopped onto the edge of a desk, crossing her legs.

“No,” Regulus smirked at her, putting his wand away. “I plan on you being loud.”

“Is that so,” she leaned back on her hands.

“Mhm,” he approached her, taking off his tie as he did so.

“Way to deprive me of fun,” Ivy cocked her head with a smirk. “I was planning on taking that off myself.”

“Apologies,” he grinned, coming to stand in front of her as he redid his green and silver tie. “Wasn’t planning on depriving you of a single thing you wanted.”

Giving him a nod of approval when he finished with his tie, she was still as he looked her over slowly. Regulus made eye contact with her and placed a hand on each of her knees, slowly uncrossing her legs before moving to stand between them.

Straightening at his presence, a presence she’d wanted between her legs since their last encounter, Ivy grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on her thighs. She grinned as his fingers slid up beneath her skirt and back down again repeatedly, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her skin.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him.

Unlike their last, this kiss was soft and unhurried. Ivy was glad for it, wanting to take her time with him, as she didn’t know whether she’d get the chance to be this way with him again. Allowing herself this pleasure even for a night was reckless, but _oh_ were his lips soft and agonizingly sweet against hers.

Tongue stroking his leisurely, she took his face in her hands, enjoying the feel of his palms sliding up and down her thighs tantalizingly. Feeling moisture gather between her legs, she began working her nimble fingers on his tie, enjoying the feel of it loosening.

Ivy pulled back a little to slide the tie from around his neck, grinning and biting her lower lip as she did so, before pushing the black robes off his shoulders to work on the buttons of his shirt. She kissed him again before moving her lips down his throat. His hands slid beneath her skirt to her arse as she finished unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling her lips from his neck, she made a move to work on her own.

Regulus slapped her hand away and consequently smacked her arse. In one quick movement, he had her sitting on the very edge of the table, pressed flush against him. Feeling his hardness against her core, Ivy let out a shaky breath and wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding just a little against him.

When he released a groan, she grinned at him proudly.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he didn’t bother with the last two buttons of her shirt. Instead, Regulus ripped the fabric, causing the buttons to pop off and something to stir between her legs. He shoved the shirt past her shoulders, leaving them both topless.

“No bra?” He stared at her breasts.

“I can go get one if you’d like.”

“Absolutely not,” Regulus let out a growl.

He reclaimed her mouth, plunging a hand into her loose white hair as she clutched at his back needily, wanting him closer than it was possible to be. His other hand slid from her hip to capture a small breast in his large hand.

Despite the fact that she hadn’t wanted to hurry earlier, a thrill of excitement and lust raged through her, and her fingers went straight for his belt buckle. Undoing it speedily as his mouth left hers to lavish attention one of her nipples, she slid her fingers beneath his pants to grasp him.

When she made contact, he released another of his groans, the kind she had dreams about, both when she was awake and asleep. Her deft fingers began to stroke him and he released her breast from his mouth, tilting his head back with an exquisite look on his face as his hands found her hair and fisted it.

Ivy made a move to pull him loose from his pants when she saw and heard the door shake.

“Shit!” Regulus all but shouted, shifting away from her to toss her her blouse.

The door continued to shake as they hurriedly put themselves together, frantically tossing each other discarded clothing and doing their best to fix their appearances.

There was barely enough time to button up her top before the door swung open, revealing a giggling Theya and Ariadne. Severus stood just behind them, looking half bored and half intrigued, though all three sets of eyes widened upon seeing who had just been trying to shag in the empty classroom.

“Fuck,” Ivy whispered from where she stood beside the desk, knowing her buttons were done up completely wrong and her skirt was hitched further up her legs than it should have been.

“Hey,” Regulus said, his voice too casual. “We were just, um…”

Ivy’s eyes were fixed on Ariadne as her friend backed away, eyes full of tears and hurt. The dark-haired girl was there for no more than a moment before she ran, her steps echoing down the corridor.

“Wait!” Ivy started.

Theya locked gazes with Ivy, shaking her head in grave disappointment before vanishing after Ariadne. Severus, the last remaining of the bunch, just gave them an awkward nod and departed.

Horrified into silence, Ivy remained where she was, head spinning with the look in Ariadne’s eyes. For all Ivy had done and said to the girl, she’d never once been given a look like that.

Disgust with herself roiled in her stomach as Regulus silently shut the door.

“Ivy…” he turned to her and walked over, looking apologetic.

“No,” she choked back her own tears. “We can’t do this again.”

“Who cares what they think?” He frowned, reaching for her.

“I do!” She pulled out his grasp, feeling deeply disturbed. “Aside from you, they’re everything I have! We cannot do this again, Regulus. I won’t do that to her. Not after all I’ve already done to her.”

Ivy knew that there was no better way to show Ariadne she loved her than to give up the only person she had ever wanted. Her heart was breaking in her chest and the thought struck all of the wind from her lungs, but she couldn't keep on with what she'd been doing. It wasn't fair to any of them.

“What have you done to her?”

“Ignored her, disvalued her, neglected her. I was her Boggart for fucks sake! I can’t be this person anymore!” Ivy clenched her fists, her guilt increasing with each passing second. “Not when I already have to- I can’t add this on top of-”

“It’s alright,” he said soothingly.

“I said no!” She shouted, not intending for her words to come out with such volume. “I can’t keep doing this to her. I can’t keep doing this to _you_. We’ve gotten too close and it’s too much for me.”

“So, what?” Tension had come over his shoulders and his face took on a hard look. “That’s it? After everything you and I have been through, after all the progress we’ve made this past year? I thought we’d gotten to a place where we could just let _us_ happen and not worry about anyone else!’

“We did! That’s the bloody problem!”

Regulus was in her face in a flash and she could see hurt written all over him, evident in how he’d started shaking, how his eyes were boring into her.

“Why won’t you just let me in?” Regulus asked angrily. “What is so wrong with that - with me? That you have to close me out and push me away and _never tell me the damned truth_?”

"You want the truth?" She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing what she had to do. "Fine. We don’t have the same beliefs, alright?"

“Am I not…” Regulus stepped back, looking wounded. “ _Pureblood_ enough for you?”

The dark and complicated truth was that their values were different, just not in the way she was going to make him believe. He was starting to see things the way she did, but it simply wasn’t enough yet. And she couldn’t just string him along for however long it took him to see the truth, especially since it was possible that he may _never_ see the entire truth. He was regretful of getting the Dark Mark, but that didn't mean he felt differently about Muggleborns or Squibs. And until he said something to the contrary, she couldn't reveal herself.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He shook his head with, if possible, even more disappointment than Theya. “The first night we were together, I asked you where you stood with the Dark Lord and you didn’t say anything. After you felt so guilty about what you did, I thought we were on the same page. But then you came back to Hogwarts spouting all of the usual shite. I thought you'd changed - that you saw what I saw, but you don’t, do you?"

“Regulus,” Ivy choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

"Save your apologies. They're meaningless.” Regulus held her stare, betrayal thick in his gaze. “I need to hear you say it.”

“You’re right,” her voice was barely above a whisper. "You're not pureblood enough for me."

“And you… You're...” He looked her up and down in disgust. “Not who I thought you were.”

“I know,” her heart shattered as she forced herself to continue spinning lies. “I want to be, but I never will be. I got over my regrets about what I did to that Muggle and I’m devoted to the Dark Lord. You should be too.”

“It seems I was wrong, then. You are like Bellatrix.”


	16. Those Not Talked About

**March 15th, 1977**

“You’ve read through Guide to Advanced Occlumency liked I asked, right?” Ivy ignored the slightly icy spring wind that moved through the mountains, rustling the silver and green scarf strung about her neck.

“Yes,” Severus replied, standing in front of her at the base of the Black Lake.

Sizing him up, with his usual sour countenance, she noticed that his hair was extra shiny in the sunlight that provided them with just enough warmth for the outdoors to be bearable. Suppressing the suggestion to tell him to take a shower, Ivy pressed her lips together, second-guessing herself.

She knew it probably wasn’t wise to be teaching another Death Eater Occlumency. In fact, the only reason she was doing so was for Regulus, as she’d overheard him asking Severus to teach him what he learned from Ivy. This wasn’t surprising, considering she hadn’t spoken to Regulus or Theya in over a month.

But at least this way, if he was coming to terms even a bit about the wickedness of the pureblood world, he would be protected.

“I’m ready,” he added, sounding determined.

“You better be,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Because this is going to be very unpleasant.”

“Much as your worry flatters me,” Severus drawled sarcastically, drawing his silver lime wand. “I can handle it.”

“If you say so… Defend yourself against me.” Readying her hazel wand, she made sure her own mind was secure before holding his gaze and shouting: “ _Legilimens!”_

Severus had just opened his mouth to counter when she spell reached its target. Her vision tunneled straight at Severus and into the depths of his eyes.

As had happened when she and Theya previously practiced, she had two different views. One was the perspective of her own mind, which felt her lips moving as Severus stood still with his wand hand still raised, giving the occasional muscle spasm. The other brought her to the maze he’d constructed around his mind.

Upon pressing a mental hand against the stone of the labyrinth, the walls gave a shake. As Ivy pressed harder, forcing her will upon him, the walls crumbled and she darted inside, though she only had partial access to his mind. Still, she was more skilled than he and could therefore sense a deep bitterness that had wound around his spine, could hear the vibrations of his will trying to resist hers, and could nearly feel the sweat on his forehead as though it were her own.

More than that, she was able to sift through some of his memories. She could see a dirty, crooked street sign on a dark, desolate avenue that read: Spinner’s End… There was a little girl with long auburn hair sailing through the sky, the afternoon sun lighting her hair as she floated down from a swing… Theya, smelling of honeysuckle, wound an arm around Severus’s narrow shoulders and gave him a jostle… Then, she watched Theya, clad in a pink silk gown, golden hair in tight curls, lean in with her eyes closed…

Ivy heard him think of the Bat Bogey Hex incantation just before he cast it and she vanished from his mind, deflecting the spell with a quick slash of her wand. Back to solely her body, she shook out her legs and arms, feeling slightly tired but otherwise fine. Severus, on the other hand, was bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Very funny,” she rolled her neck.

“You’ll always be a Bogey Firstie as far as I’m concerned,” Severus panted.

“At least I’m not Ariadne.” Ivy waited for him to recover. “She’s never going to live that down. Even the third years know that story. I watched a little Hufflepuff, Alina Bones, call her Bogey Girl just last week.”

Severus straightened in silence and she knew he was already done with the chit-chat.

“Getting into your mind was like cutting through soft butter,” she told him.

“I still managed to repel you.”

“Only after I was inside your mind,” Ivy tightened the scarf around her neck as the wind sliding across the Lake picked up. “Once you’re able to keep someone out of your mind, you can work on what happens when they get in, as that’s the complicated bit.”

“Where did you learn Occlumency, anyway?”

“Theya.”

Severus looked out over the water in silence.

“Still not ready to have that talk?” Ivy teased.

Severus fixed her with an annoyed look.

Heaving a sigh, she fidgeted with the ring on her pinky finger that she still had no clues about. Since Theya’s lip would curl the instant she saw Ivy and Regulus outright ignored her existence, she’d been spending most of her free time with Severus and Ariadne, the only people in their group that would speak to her. Any time spent away from the two of them was used researching what had happened to her soul, though she had come up with absolutely nothing.

“I’m going to dig deeper this time,” she warned him, finishing a run through of her mental defenses. She then shouted before he could react. “ _Legilimens!”_

Her perception tunneled towards him into the black of his eyes and this time, she didn’t go easy on him. Ivy pummeled through his maze and straight into the depths of his subconscious, heading for the memories she could feel him trying to conceal. Upon locating black swirling mass, she started sweating with the effort of forcing her way through.

The struggle was long, and by the time she got through, she was the one panting. Continuing to struggle against his efforts to drag her from his head, Ivy saw a fridge empty aside from a single rotting apple. Then, the inside of a closet as a man and woman shouted horrible things in the other room… She listened to Severus yell _"I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_ and watched Lily Evans’s emerald eyes fill with the exact same hurt as Regulus’s a month prior.

Ivy was slammed out of his head by her own thoughts and she saw Regulus’s pained, betrayed face in her mind’s eye. She’d been so focused on accessing his mind that she’d forgotten to continue taking care of her own.

“ _Legilimens!”_ She heard too late.

There was no time to react as Severus began to make mist of the multiple walls she’d built around her mind. Feeling him coming close to her mind’s inner core, she went to work winding shadows around the memories she needed to guard at all costs. When Severus breached her mind fully, he didn’t bother with the darkness-encased memories, instead plunging into the ones so near the surface that she hadn’t been able to hide them with so little time.

Ivy struggled against him, only able to slowly raise her wand arm as a series of memories flashed before her eyes. Regulus stood too close to her, looking as though Ivy had just emotionally eviscerated him, which she had… Regulus whispered all the filthy things he was going to do to her in her ear and her nails drew blood from his shoulders as he ground his hips into hers… The Dark Lord stood in a blood-spattered kitchen, saying “ _You remind me of Bellatrix_ ” before turning away… Ivy gripped the sink with one hand, her other gripping a fistful of black ribbons…

Green light flashed bright and Ivy slammed into Severus, the impact of trying to push him out reverberating in her mind. There was a dead nine-year-old on the cellar floor, “SQUIB” carved into her arm, as she shouted an incantation. Bellatrix loomed over her, face wild with dying ecstasy as her spell hit Severus square in the chest.

Ivy fell to all fours, head hanging as she breathed heavily and stared at the sunny grass. The first thing she did was reassemble her mental defenses while her body calmed itself down.

When her breathing slowed and she could be sure her mind was secure, she looked up to see Severus on the ground, the Jelly-Legs Curse doing its job nicely. His wand lay in the grass beside him as he watched her with an unnerving expression.

“Tell me what you’re thinking this instant.” Wand still clutched in one of her hands, she sat back on her heels and raised it with a dangerous tone. “Or I will find out for myself. And I promise you, it will not go the way things just did.”

Severus didn’t make a move for his wand, he just continued staring at her with a frown that told her nothing. He was silent for several moments, and when she didn’t put her wand down, he finally said: “I don’t think you’re anything like Bellatrix.”

Something in the way he spoke set her teeth on edge and she stood slowly, wand still drawn. “Is that good or bad to you?”

“If I tell you the truth,” his fingers inched towards his wand. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Ivy angled her wand at him dangerously. “I’ve been known to torture people even after they’re dead. And that depends on what the truth is. Which, I will be able to tell regardless of what you say next.”

Severus swallowed and raised the hand he’d been going for the wand with, placing it on his knee. “Another perk of your Divination senses?”

Ivy just smirked at him.

“It’s a good thing,” Severus said evenly.

Using a Legilimency trick she knew he couldn’t yet identify, her silver eyes maintained contact with his black ones. When she understood that he was telling the truth, she lowered her wand.

Severus snatched his up and got to his feet warily.

“Don’t ever tell anyone what you saw today,” Ivy tucked her wand up her sleeve, watching him carefully. “And I’ll do you the same courtesy.”

It wasn’t that she trusted him, but the only other option at this point seemed to be Obliviation, which she thought unnecessary. Although she had never once wanted him to see Hazel’s death, it wasn’t like he’d seen her reaction to it. All things considered, she thought herself lucky to get away from a _Legilimens_ this safe.

“Works for me,” he mumbled, seeming to relax as he stuck his own silver lime wand back into his robes. “But your sister-”

“If I can’t even bring up Theya,” she started toward the castle, beckoning for him to follow. “You _definitely_ can’t bring up Hazel. And while we’re at it, I don’t want to hear a single thing about Regulus unless you have news that he’s no longer ignoring me.”

“I can’t say that he’s happy with you,” Severus had the gall to smirk. “But I did hear some interesting things he’d be happy to do _to_ you.”

“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” Ivy let out a shocked laugh. “Maybe you and Theya have more in common than I thought.”

He shot her a look.

“Off-limits,” she rolled her eyes. “I know, I know.”

Severus cleared his throat, eyeing her sidelong as they made their way up the hill, sun beating down on their backs.

“What is it?” She asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Just spit it out.”

“I guess… I’m just surprised you’re so calm today.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Severus was quiet for a moment. “She didn’t tell you.”

“Who didn’t tell me what?”

“Ariadne,” Severus stuck his hands in his pockets, hunching over slightly. “Regulus asked her to Hogsmeade. They’re there right now.”

Ivy stopped. “What?”

“Yeah,” he paused with her, looking longingly up at the castle.

Ivy’s gaze went in the direction of Hogsmeade. She could just barely see some of the thatched roofs.

Truth be told, she was a little pissed at Regulus. Not for going on the date --though she did want to light either or both of them on fire-- but for abandoning her because she was behaving like a proper pureblood shit. It was understandable, but she’d stuck by _his_ side at his worst, even when there wasn’t a hint of potential to work with.

Though, she _had_ made that decision as an eleven-year-old, a decision that she couldn’t say was the wisest. So, perhaps, he was ultimately just smarter than her.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” Severus added when she didn’t reply.

“What am I, seven?” Ivy scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Are you going to smash something, then?”

“Of course,” she started walking again, spiteful envy sparking in her veins.

It was her own fault that they were going out on a date, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be angry about it. Merlin, did she want to wring someone’s neck.

“Care if I join you?” Severus asked, catching up with her.

“You’re volunteering to spend time with me?” Ivy eyed him in some manner of surprise. “This is bigger than you having a sense of humor.”

“Shut up or I’ll change my mind,” he grumbled.

“I don’t care if you come,” Ivy said. “Why do you want to, though?”

“You’re not the only one whose mind was completely violated today.”

“You asked for it.”

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was just how Regulus liked it; smoky with a faint chatter in the background that made for the perfect reading environment. Except that it was Ariadne in the loo he was waiting on to return instead of Ivy.

Quick as the thought came to mind, he banished it. Even if Ariadne felt more strongly about pureblood ways than he currently did, at least she would be straight-forward with him. He wouldn’t have to guess what she was thinking at all times.

Spotting her on her way back from the lavatory, he sat up straighter. Taking a gulp of his gillywater as she sat down across from him, he gave her a warm smile.

She cocked her head at him, tossing her long, dark hair over a shoulder. “Your shirt collar is crooked.”

“You don’t like the rugged look?” He laughed.

“No,” Ariadne deadpanned, sipping her butterbeer.

“Oh,” he fixed it. “Better?”

Ariadne reached across the table and straightened his tie.

Regulus gave her a bewildered look that she didn’t seem to notice. “What next?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Uh, I dunno,” he admitted. “Madam Puddifoot’s?”

“Nuh-uh,” Ariadne shook her head.

“Why not?” He frowned at her. “They’ve got the _best_ tea.”

“I don’t think so. Watching people slobber all over each other, blegh.”

“Fine,” he thought how Ivy and Theya were always fine with Madam Puddifoot’s. Afterall, it was rather cozy and a great place for making fun of other students. “What about Zonko’s?”

“Too loud.”

“Honeydukes?”

“Too sticky.”

 _Ah_ , he thought, _now I remember why we never invite Ariadne to Hogsmeade._

“We could go for a walk,” he tried again.

“Too cold.”

“It’s 12 degrees outside,” he pointed out.

Ariadne just shrugged and fixed him with a sweet smile.

“Then…” He took a breath. “We’ll just stay here.”

“Sounds good,” Ariadne said happily.

Regulus took a sip of his gillywater just to have something to do as they sat in awkward silence. It was the first time he’d hung out with her one-on-one, as they were typically in a group setting and now that it was just them, he wasn’t sure about her.

Glancing up at Ariadne, she was busy watching him with a loving look.

Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough.

“Read any good books lately?” He asked with a smile.

“I don’t really read.”

“Right. Uh, what do you like to do, then?”

“I dunno,” Ariadne shrugged, adjusting her turtleneck. “Exploding snap is fun.”

“You’re not apart of any clubs, right?”

“Nope.”

“Hm,” he tried to think of a shared interest. “What do you do outside of Hogwarts?”

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“Like during hols. Do you try to get into pubs or practice wizarding chess-”

“Wizarding chess,” she echoed, looking at him weird.

“Just an example,” he told her. “What about Quidditch, any teams you support?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ariadne suddenly looked excited.

“Great!” Regulus said, relieved. “What team?”

“The Quiberon Quafflepunchers.”

“Why?” Regulus raised his brows. “Your family’s not from France.”

“No,” she shrugged. “Their team name just sounds funny.”

“Huh?” He stared at her.

“Quafflepunchers, y’know?” Ariadne grinned.

“You… don’t watch Quidditch, do you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t.”

Regulus nodded and leaned back in his chair, thinking that maybe silence was better.


	17. A Lavish Event, Raveled

**April 1 st, 1977**

Clad in a black and sparkling long-sleeved gown, Ivy watched Rodolphus Lestrange --who had captured Slughorn’s attention-- out of the corner of her eye while she chatted with Barnabas Cuffe. A goblet of spiked pumpkin juice in hand, she smiled politely as the older wizard droned on about how he was expecting to become editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet any day now.

A house elf holding a silver platter of food walked past her and she snagged a tart as they passed. She took a nibble from it, simultaneously letting out a laugh as Cuffe told a joke that she barely thought merited a huff of air through the nose.

Keeping an eye out for Rodolphus, she stole a glance about Slughorn’s office, thinking that it was hardly the right size for an Easter Holiday party. The room was small and thus cramped, as witches and wizards of various ages engaged in conversations that she was sure were more interesting than the one she was currently stuck in.

While the room was compact, it was lavishly decorated, with violet, gold, and indigo drapes covering the walls. As multiple adults were huffing on pipes, there was a lingering sheet of smoke hanging in the room, highlighted by the medium gold lighting that basked them all. Light, vibrant music came from a corner of the room played by enchanted instruments, near where Regulus and Severus stood.

Ivy gave a polite comment where it was needed in between Cuffe’s story, which unfortunately caused the intoxicated man to continue. He spoke loudly and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to impress her or the whole room with his tale.

Eyes wandering when Cuffe took a breath, she spotted Theya and Evans still vying for Wendy Slinkhard’s attention a few feet away. The only others she recognized in the room, Dirk Cresswell, Adrian Cense, and Dahlia F. --who she only knew as a member of Flitwick’s Frog Choir-- were engaged in some form of animated debate.

Ivy waited impatiently for Cuffe to finish his story and excused herself when Slughorn joined them. Thankfully, as both men seemed properly inebriated, they didn’t seem to notice or care about her vanishing presence.

Weaving through the groups of people, she made her way to the far side of the room where Severus had been glued to the wall for the entirety of the night, looking uncomfortable and out of place in his shabby black dress robes. Regulus, who was wearing far sleeker blue dress robes that obnoxiously made her remember what was beneath them, was saying something to Severus, who laughed into his goblet.

Upon reaching them, she paid no mind to Regulus, knowing he would do the same to her, and spoke directly to Severus. “Refill?”

Severus gave a nod, tilting his goblet towards her.

Ivy glanced over her shoulder before reaching under her dress to retrieve the enchanted green, sparkly flask that was strapped to her thigh alongside her wand. Taking her time in putting down her dress since Regulus was still present, she poured into Severus’s goblet and drained her own.

“You know if you stand there any longer,” she said to Severus, refilling her cup. “Someone’s going to suspect you’re up to something.”

“You’ve got a point,” Severus smirked at her before walking directly to the other side of the room where he pressed his back up against a violet-draped wall.

 _Fuck_ , she thought, narrowing her eyes after him. She knew he was tired of Regulus and Theya avoiding her, causing him to have to be a strange sort of wingman, but this was just about the worst way he could make it evident.

“Why do you still wear it?” Regulus asked, startling her since she’d expected him to already be gone. “I’ve been ignoring you for two months.”

“Wear what?” Ivy frowned, taking another long drink from her ornamental goblet, knowing she was going to need a little liquid courage to get through the conversation. If it lasted as long as a conversation.

“The pin.”

A hand instinctively went up to touch the Thestral adorning her bun. Deciding it better not to even answer his question, she just said, “talking to me again, are you? Think you could give Theya the message?”

“I can leave if you’d like,” he made a move to do so.

“Wait,” she caught him by the wrist. “ _Occulta tenebris_.”

“Huh?” He frowned at her, looking more confused than angry, which was a surprise considering anger was his typical expression whenever he saw her recently.

“That’s all you get since you’ve been ignoring me for two months,” she met his gaze and lowered her voice. “All I wanted to say was that I miss you.”

“Is that so?” Regulus eyed her, nothing about his expression giving away how he felt about her words.

“Yes.”

His dark eyes moved over her shoulder and she thought he was going to ignore her straight to her face. But when he started frowning, she turned in time to see a flash of auburn hair leaving through the entrance, followed by Severus. Theya stood a few feet from the door, watching with a heartbroken look.

“Shit,” Ivy and Regulus said at the same time.

No longer paying attention to Regulus, she watched with concern as Theya’s lower lip quivered. The golden-haired witch then looked around the room, momentarily locking eyes with Ivy, though the second she did, Theya turned and left the party as well.

“Give me some of that pumpkin juice,” Regulus said suddenly. “And maybe I’ll consider talking to you again.”

“You hate pumpkin juice.”

“The offer is about to rescind,” he drawled.

Ivy filled his goblet to the brim and watched him head towards the entrance, throwing his drink back as he did.

Planning to follow him, she was stopped in her tracks almost immediately by Rodolphus, who moved directly in her path, causing her to run directly into him.

Backing away quickly, she smiled politely, meeting his electric blue eyes.

“What do we have here?” Rodolphus took the flask from her, an item which she’d entirely forgotten she was holding. He opened the top and sniffed it, smirking. “Clever. Doesn’t even smell of alcohol.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean,” she told him with a shrug. “I prefer my pumpkin juice with nutmeg, so I bring my own.”

“It’d make more sense to just bring nutmeg,” he said teasingly.

If Ivy didn’t know better, she would have thought he was flirting with her.

“You’ve been dodging me all night,” Rodolphus added, squinting at her. “What’s the matter, Selwyn?”

“Just trying to be a good little socialite.” At least it was a half-truth. “If you’d excuse me, I think one of my friends needs me.”

“I suspect Regulus has it handled.”

“And I suspect he doesn’t,” she stepped around him.

“A little grumpy for a socialite, aren’t you?” Rodolphus stood in her way again with a grin. “I want to know what you did.”

“How do you mean?”

Rodolphus tugged on his sleeve and she realized he was referring to the sheer material over her arms that rested atop unmarked skin.

_Oh, hell no._

“You wouldn’t believe how long it took,” she huffed in exasperation. “Combination of magical makeup, a Concealment Charm, and a modified Disillusionment Charm. The effect only lasts five hours and the process takes nearly as long.”

Apparently buying it, he looked disappointed. “No quick and easy fix, huh?”

“I’ll be sure to let you know should I find one,” her voice was earnest though she certainly didn’t feel that way.

Rodolphus handed her the flask. “I’ll let you get back to your friend, then.”

Ivy gave him a smile, tucking the flask under an arm as she departed from the party, which seemed to be the trend of the night.

* * *

Regulus found Theya in an alcove a few corridors away from the party, sitting on the edge of a windowsill. There were tears streaking her makeup and her head was tilted back, taking gulp after gulp from a twinkly, silver flask. From beneath her purple dress, he noticed that Theya’s feet were bare, her heels having been cast down the corridor.

Taking a seat on the windowsill as Theya made room, still going at it with the flask, he undid his bowtie and waited patiently.

When she finally came up for breath, she only spared a moment to inhale before tilting her head back again. It was momentary, as she then shook the flask and held it upside down over a palm.

“Of course,” she sighed, setting it in her lap.

“Here,” Regulus passed her his goblet.

She took a sip and looked at him with surprise. “Where’d you get this?”

“Ivy.”

“Should’ve known. Nutmeg. Flask strapped to her thigh?”

“How did you know?”

“Who do you think taught her that little trick? Not that I’ve ever actually seen her use it.”

Indeed, Ivy had never been a big drinker. Which made him annoyingly worried when she’d started coming to class smelling like firewhiskey a few weeks ago.

“Why were you even talking to her?” Theya sounded annoyed.

“To get alcohol.”

“You know,” she eyed him sidelong. “I can’t call her a bitch if you won’t tell me what she did to you. I mean, I can, and I will, but it would be easier to be mad at her on your behalf if I knew what was going on.”

“You’re avoiding talking about Severus,” he replied, fully aware of the hypocrisy of his statement. “What happened?”

“What always happens with Severus,” Theya said vaguely. “Why am I always the one crying after events like this?”

“Couldn’t tell you.”

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fine by me. We can just drink ourselves into a stupor instead.”

“Cheers to that,” she downed the remaining liquid in the goblet, then shook it. “Don’t think you were supposed to take this from the party.”

“Slughorn’s sloshed. I doubt he’ll miss it.”

“Fair point,” she laughed. “He called me Feya on accident.”

“Did you see him knock over Wendy Slinkhard?” Regulus chuckled. “Last I saw her, she looked pissed and ready to never come to one of his parties again.”

“How do you feel about joining me on that line of thought?”

“Nah, need to keep up appearances,” he lied.

“Us Slytherins and our appearances,” she sighed. “Wonder what it must be like to be a ‘Puff.”

“Miserable, I’d expect,” he grinned. “What are they good at, really? Finding things? I can do that without wearing yellow.”

“Got something against yellow?”

“It washes me out.”

Theya barked out a laugh. “Oh, yes, you prefer to mope about wearing all black, even during Holidays.”

“I don’t mope about,” he protested.

“Recently, you definitely have been.”

“So have you.”

There was a moment of silence.

“New topic,” he said, irritated at how easy it was to lead the conversation back to Ivy.

“Agreed.”

Regulus hadn’t previously noticed how intertwined the three of their lives were and wasn’t sure how to feel about the notion. If he were being entirely honest, things felt unnatural without Ivy. Especially when it was just him, Theya, and Ariadne. Ariadne was… decent in group settings, but she lacked the spark Ivy always carried about with her.

It was beyond frustrating how much he missed her.

“I say,” he sighed. “We go back to the Commons and find more alcohol.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.”


End file.
